"infinite  ricfas  in  a  litm 


PERSONAL  REMINISCENCES 


BARHAM,  HARNESS,  AND  HODDER. 


BfilC-A-BRAC   SERIES. 


i. 
PERSONAL  REMINISCENCES  BY  CHORLEY,  PLANCH*,  AND  YOUNG. 

II. 

ANECDOTE  BIOGRAPHIES  OF  THACKERAY  AND  DICKENS. 

III. 

PROSPER    MtRIMEVs    LETTERS    TO    AN    INCOGNITA;    WITH 
RECOLLECTIONS    BY    LAMARTINE    AND    GEORGE   SAND. 

IV. 
PERSONAL   REMINISCENCES  BY  BARHAM,  HARNESS,  AND  HOD- 

DO. 

V. 

PERSONAL  REMINISCENCES  BY  MOORE  AND  JERDAN. 

(  Will  be  published  in  January. ) 

Each  I  vol.  of  I2mo.     Per  vol.  $1.50. 

Sent,  pest-paid,  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  publishers. 


'PERSONAL  REMINISCENCES 


BY 


BARHAM,  HARNESS,  AND  HODDER. 


EDITED  BY 

RICHARD   HENRY    STODDARD 


NEW    YORK 
SCRIBNER,  ARMSTRONG,  AND  COMPANY 

1875 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by 

SCRIBNER,  ARMSTRONG,  AND  COMPANY, 
In  the  Office  ol  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


RIVP.RSIDK,  CAMBRIDGE: 

•TRUEOTVPKD  AND  PKINTKI)  BY 

H.  O.  HOUCMTON  AND  COMPAKV. 


CONTENTS. 


RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

THEODORE  HOOK 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT   .... 

BARHAM'S  COLLEGE  LIFE 

ANECDOTE  OF  HARLEY,  THE  COMEDIAN  . 

WITCHCRAFT 

BARHAM  AMONG  SMUGGLERS     . 

A  CASE  OF  MONOMANIA 

A  POETICAL  INVITATION    . 

THE  FATE  OF  A  HARE  .... 

RUSTIC  SIMPLICITY     .... 

ANECDOTE  OF  LORD  ELDON  . 

THE  BLOMBERG  GHOST  STORY 

DR.  BLOMBERG  AND  His  FIDDLES 

MURDER  OF  MRS.  DONATTY 

MESMERISM 

EDWARD  CANNON       . 
THEATRICAL  ANECDOTES 
ANECDOTE  OF  INDIAN  OFFICER 
CANNON'S  SNUFF-TAKING 
THE  DIGNUM  BROTHERS    . 

A  STRANGE  FISH 

A  KEW  COMER  

OLD  FRIENDS  SHOULD  NOT  BE  PARTED 
LUTTREL'S  EPIGRAM   .... 
THE  DUCHESS  OF  ST.  ALBANS 

THOMAS  HILL 

A  PARADOX     

A  DUBIOUS  ACQUAINTANCE 


19 

45 
53 
55 
56 
57 
59 
60 
61 
61 
62 

63 
67 
68 
7i 
74 
85 
86 

87 


89 
90 
90 


92 
93 


Vi  CONTENTS. 

JOHN  WILSON 96 

A  GHOST  STORY 98 

THOMAS  HUME 99 

CHARLES  MATTHEWS,  THE  ELDER        ....  103 

THE  PORTSMOUTH  GHOST  STORY 105 

FUNERAL  OK  SIR  THOMAS  LAWRENCE  .        .        .        .  112 

JOHN  FROST 113 

POETICAL  EPISTLE  TO  HIS  SON 116 

SYDNEY  SMITH           118 

TOWNSEND,  THE  BoW  STREET  OFFICER       .        .        .  119 

ANOTHER  GHOST  STORY 119 

THE  BEEFSTEAK  CLUB 122 

DENIALS  OF  AUTHORSHIP 123 

SUETT'S  FUNERAL 123 

"  MY  COUSIN  NICHOLAS  " 125 

WILLIAM  LINLET 129 

HAYNES  BAYLY 132 

"GETTING  A  LITTLE  FISHING" 132 

LINF.S  LEFT  AT  HOOK'S  HOUSE  IN  JUNE,  1834       .    "    .  133 

ANECDOTE  OF  TALLEYRAND 134 

BON  MOT  OF  POWERS 134 

SYDNEY  SMITHISMS 134 

STORY  OF  YATES 135 

THE  CANISTER 137 

A  DINNER  AT  CHARLES  KF.MBLE'S 138 

THOMAS  MOORE 138 

BARHAM'S  LOVE  OF  CHILDREN  AND  CATS       .        .        .141 

MRS.  RICKETTS'S  GHOST  STORY 143 

PICKLED  COCKLES 150 

GAEME  FEATHERS 151 

POETICAL  EPISTLE  TO  DR.  HUME 151 

AN  ACCOMPLISHED  SWINDLER 153 

A  SONG  OF  SIXPENCE 135 

THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  BELGIANS 156 

MONCRIEF,  THE  DRAMATIST 157 

THE  SENTIMENTAL  CHILD 158 

THE  UNLUCKY  PRESENT 158 

ANECDOTES 160 

FACETi/e 161 

SYDNEY  SMITH'S  NOVEL  i6a 


CONTENTS.  vii 

DUKE  OF  SUSSEX  AND  MR.  OFFOR 163 

PARSON  O'BEIRNE'S  SERMON 163 

A  NOBLEMAN  WHO  WOULD  SELL  ANYTHING  .        .        .165 

SCRAPS 166 

A  FRENCHMAN'S  CRITICISM 168 

MACREADY  IN  AMERICA 169 

BARHAM'S  SURGEON    .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .  170 

THE  BULLETIN       ' 172 

To  THE  GARKICK  CLUB 174 

WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

LORD  BYRON 179 

MARY  RUSSELL  MITFORD 196 

HARNESS  AT  STRATFORD 207 

His  EDITION  OF  SHAKESPEARE 208 

SHAKESPEARE  AS  A  PLAYER 210 

GOODNESS  OF  SHAKESPEARE'S  WRITING    .        .  .211 

THE  GLOBE  THEATRE     .        .        ...        .        .  214 

MRS.  SIDDONS 216 

PROSPERO'S  ISLAND         .        .                .        .        .        .  218 

THE  KEMBLES  IN  AMERICA       . 219 

THE  KEANS 225 

"  MEMORIALS  OF  CATHERINE  FANSHAWE  "...  226 

MASTERS  AND  SERVANTS 230 

STATE  OF  THE  ENGLISH  BIBLE 232 

EDWARD  IRVING     .        .        .       ...       .       .  232 

HARNESS'S  EARLY  REMINISCENCES 234 

PALEY 234 

CRABBE 234 

HARNESS  AND  SCOTT 235 

COLERIDGE 237 

LAMB 238 

SHERIDAN 239 

ROGERS 239 

WASHINGTON  IRVING 241 

THEODORE  HOOK 241 

LYDIA  WHITE 243 

HENRY  HOPE 243 

SERJEANT  TALFOURD 245 

A  DINNER  AT  THACKERAY'S 246 


viii  CONTENTS. 


DR.  MttMAN       .........  247 

A  PRISON  CHAPLAIN      .......  248 

SOME  OF  HARNESS'S  ANECDOTES      .....  248 

GEORGE  //ODDER. 

DOUGLAS  JERROLD  ........  253 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  "PUNCH"        ......  286 

HORACE  MAYHEW  ........  296 

THE  MAYHEW  FAMILY      .......  298 

JOHN  LEECH    .........  303 

SIR  HENRY  WEBB      ........  305 

ALBERT  SMITH        ........  306 

KENNY  MEADOWS       ........  313 

GEORGE  CRUIKSHANK     .......  316 

A  LOVER  OF  AUTOGRAPHS         ......  319 

LEIGH  HUNT  .........  320 

JAMES  SHERIDAN  KNOWLES      ......  325 


PREFACE. 


IF  reasons  for  the  existence  of  some  books  are 
occasionally  sought  by  their  readers,  the  class  of 
books  to  which  this  volume  belongs  generally 
presents  "  its  own  excuse  for  being."  The  world  de- 
mands it.  "  The  world,"  says  stalwart  Christopher  North, 
"  would  seem  to  have  a  natural  right  to  know  much  of 
the  mind,  morals,  and  manners  of  the  chosen  few  —  as 
they  exhibited  themselves  in  private  life,  —  whose  genius 
may  have  delighted  or  enlightened  it,  —  to  know  more 
than  in  general  can  have  been  revealed  in  their  works. 
It  desires  this,  not  from  a  paltry  and  prying  curiosity, 
but  in  a  spirit  of  love,  or  admiration,  or  gratitude,  or 
reverence.  It  is  something  to  the  reader  of  a  great  poet, 
but  to  have  seen  him,  to  be  able  to  say  '  Virgilium  tan- 
turn  vidi.'  How  deeply  interesting  to  hear  a  few  charac- 
teristic anecdotes  related  of  him  by  some  favored  friend  ! 
To  have  some  glimpses,  at  least,  if  not  full  and  broad 
lights,  given  to  us  into  his  domestic  privacy  and  the 
inner  on-goings  beneath  what,  to  our  imaginations,  is  a 
hallowed  roof !  We  cannot  bear  to  think  that  our  knowl- 
edge of  our  benefactors  —  for  such  they  are  —  should 
be  limited  to  the  few  and  scanty  personal  notices  that 
may  be  scattered  under  the  impulse  of  peculiar  emotions 


X  PREFACE. 

here  and  there,  over  their  writings ;  we  cannot  bear  to 
think  that,  when  the  grave  closes  upon  them,  their 
memory  must  survive  only  in  their  works  ;  but  the  same 
earnest  and  devout  spirit  that  gazes  upon  the  shadows  of 
their  countenances  on  the  limner's  canvas,  yearns  to 
hear  it  told,  in  pious  biography,  what  manner  of  men 
they  were  at  the  frugal  or  the  festal  board,  by  the  fire- 
side, in  the  social  or  the  family  circle,  in  the  discharge  of 
those  duties  that  solemnize  the  relations  of  kindred,  and 
that  support  the  roof-tree  of  domestic  life." 

The  personal  reminiscences  which  follow  concern  a 
number  of  illustrious  names,  most  of  whom  belong  to 
the  England  of  the  present  century.  They  are  drawn 
from  the  works  of  those  men  of  letters,  who,  if  not  great 
themselves,  were  frequently  in  contact  with  greatness,  — 
Barham,  Harness,  and  Hodder.  A  few  pages  concerning 
them  may  not  be  unacceptable  here. 

Richard  Harris  Barham  was  born  December  6,  1788, 
at  Canterbury.  He  was  the  only  son  of  Richard  Harris 
Barham,  a  gentleman  of  good  family,  and  a  bon-vivant 
who  died  in  1795,  leaving  a  moderate  fortune  somewhat 
encumbered.  In  consequence  of  the  feeble  health  of  his 
mother,  the  fatherless  boy  of  seven  was  left  to  the  three- 
fold guardianship  of  Mr.  Morris  Robinson,  afterwards 
Lord  Rokeby,  a  Mr.  Morris,  and  a  rascally  attorney, 
whose  name  has  not  been  handed  down.  Young  Bar- 
h.un  was  sent  at  the  age  of  nine  to  St.  Paul's  School, 
where  he  made  rapid  progress  in  the  classics.  In  his 
fourteenth  year  he  was  nearly  killed  by  the  upsetting  of 
the  Dover  mail,  in  which  he  was  travelling  on  his  way  to 
town.  He  thrust  his  hand  from  the  window  for  the  pur- 
pose of  opening  the  door  just  as  the  vehicle  turned  over 
upon  its  side,  pinning  his  exposed  limb  to  the  ground, 


PREFACE.  xi 

and  dragging  it  some  distance  along  a  recently  repaved 
road.  He  recovered  from  his  injuries  after  a  long  ill- 
ness, and  without  suffering  amputation,  and  continuing 
for  two  years  at  St.  Paul's  he  entered  as  a  gentleman 
commoner  Brazenose  College,  where  he  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Theodore  Hook,  and  where,  after  passing 
his  examination,  he  took  a  Bachelor's  degree.  He  in- 
tended originally  to  study  for  the  bar,  and  went  so  far  as 
to  enter  the  office  of  Chitty,  the  eminent  conveyancer ; 
but  he  changed  his  mind,  and  entering  holy  orders  was 
admitted  to  the  curacy  of  Ashford,  in  Kent,  in  1813. 

He  was  married  shortly  afterward,  and  in  1817  was 
promoted  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  to  the  rectory 
of  Snargate.  Two  years  later  he  was  overturned  in  his 
gig  with  his  two  children,  breaking  his  right  leg.  He  was 
confined  to  the  house  for  several  weeks,  which  he  turned 
to  account  by  writing  a  work  entitled,  "  Baldwin."  After 
his  recovery  he  made  a  visit  to  London,  where  he  learned 
that  a  minor  canonry  in  St.  Paul's  was  vacant.  He  re- 
solved to  relinquish  his  curacy  and  canvass  for  it.  He 
succeeded  in  obtaining  it,  and  in  the  summer  of  1821 
took  up  his  abode  permanently  in  London.  His  family 
having  increased,  a  larger  income  than  he  had  hitherto 
enjoyed  was  necessary,  and  he  set  to  work  resolutely  to 
procure  it  by  literature.  He  edited  the  "  London  Chron- 
icle," a  journal  originally  conducted  by  Dr.  Johnson  ;  he 
wrote  light  articles  in  prose  and  verse  on  the  topics  of 
the  day,  with  an  occasional  review  in  "  John  Bull,"  the 
"  Globe  and  Traveller,"  the  "  Literary  Gazette,"  "  Black- 
wood,"  and  other  periodicals,  besides  assisting  in  the 
production  of  a  Biographical  Dictionary. 

The  success  which  attended  Barham  in  his  literary 
labors  attended  him  in  his  clerical  career.  In  1824  he 


xii  PREFACE. 

received  the  appointment  of  priest  in  ordinary  of  His 
Majesty's  Chapels  Royal,  and  was  presented  to  the  in- 
cumbency of  St.  Mary  Magdalen  and  St.  Gregory  by  St. 
Paul's,  which  he  held  for  about  eighteen  years.  In  1842 
he  was  elected  to  the  presidency  of  Sion  College,  and  in 
the  same  year  his  long  services  at  St.  Paul's  were  re- 
warded with  the  Divinity  lectureship,  and  by  being  al- 
lowed to  exchange  his  living  for  that  of  St.  Faith. 

Barham's  last  days  were  darkened  by  illness,  which 
appears  to  have  been  brought  on  by  his  own  imprudence. 
The  Queen  visited  London  in  state  in  the  autumn  of 
1844,  for  the  purpose  of  presiding  at  the  ceremony  of 
opening  the  new  Royal  Exchange,  and  Barham,  wishing 
to  witness  the  pageant,  accepted  seats  for  himself  and  his 
family  at  the  house  of  one  of  his  parishioners.  The 
weather  was  bleak ;  a  strong  east  wind  whistled  through 
the  open  windows,  and  he  caught  a  severe  cold.  His 
case  became  so  alarming  in  the  following  winter  that  he 
was  ordered  to  Bath,  where  his  health  improved.  He 
returned  to  London  imprudently  to  attend  a  meeting  of 
the  Archaelogical  Association,  caught  cold  again,  and  had 
a  relapse.  He  recovered  sufficiently  in  May  to  undertake 
a  journey  to  Clifton  with  his  wife,  who  was  ill.  The 
journey  benefited  neither.  A  temporary  convalescence 
enabled  them  to  return  to  town,  where,  on  the  morning 
of  June  17,  1845,  Barham  expired,  in  the  fifty-seventh 
year  of  his  age. 

The  life  of  Barham  was  in  a  certain  sense  tygjcal  of 
the  class  to  which  he  belonged.  He  enjoyed  life,  loved 
his  friends,  was  fond  of  a  good  dinner  and  a  good  story, 
a  right-minded,  jovial  English  parson.  Literature  was 
as  much  his  amusement  as  his  employment,  the  work  by 
which  he  is  best  known,  "The  Ingoldsby  Legends," 


PREFACE.  xiii 

ranking  high  among  the  drolleries  of  English  humorous 
verse.  They  originally  appeared  in  the  pages  of  "  Bent- 
ley's  Miscellany,"  where  they  attracted  as  much  attention 
as  the  fictions  of  its  young  editor,  Charles  Dickens. 

The  life  of  William  Harness  was  simple  and  unevent- 
ful. He  was  born  on  March  14,  1790,  near  the  village  of 
Wickham,  where  his  father,  Dr.  Harness,  resided  until 
1796,  when,  on  the  breaking  out  of  war,  he  accompanied 
Lord  Hook  to  the  Mediterranean  as  physician  to  the 
fleet.  He  was  afterwards  sent  to  Lisbon,  whither  his 
family  followed  him.  When  they  returned  to  England, 
young  Harness,  who  was  then  in  his  twelfth  year,  was 
placed  at  Harrow,  where  he  had  Lord  Byron  for  his  school- 
fellow. From  Harrow  he  proceeded  to  Christ's  College, 
Cambridge,  where  he  took  his  degree.  Shortly  after  he 
was  graduated  he  was  ordained  to  the  curacy  of  Kilmes- 
ton,  near  Abresford.  He  soon  received  an  appointment  to 
St.  Pancras,  London,  where  he  entered  the  list  of  Shake- 
spearian editors  by  an  edition  of  his  favorite  poet.  It  was 
published  in  1825.  A  second  edition,  with  plates,  ap- 
peared in  1830 ;  and  a  third,  with  illustrations  by  Heath 
and  others,  in  1833.  Other  editions,  in  different  forms, 
were  issued  in  1836,  1840,  and  1842.  In  1837  he  pub- 
lished a  little  story,  "  Reverses,"  in  "  Blackwood,"  which 
his  friend  and  early  playfellow,  Mary  Russell  Mitford, 
pronounced  delightful.  He  published  also  four  volumes 
of  an  edition  of  Massinger,  and  wrote  a  dramatic  poem, 
"  The  Wife  of  Antwerp,"  which  he  printed  for  private 
circulation. 

After  Harness's  removal  to  London  he  was  made  pri- 
vate chaplain  to  the  Dowager  Countess  of  Delaware,  and 
became  successively  morning  preacher  at  Trinity  Chapel, 
and  minister  and  evening  lecturer  at  St.  Ann's,  Soho. 


XJV  PREFACE. 

A  note,  jotted  down  incidentally,  on  the  back  of  one  of 
his  sermon  cases  in  commemoration  of  some  country  vis- 
itors, bears  incidental  testimony  that  he  commanded  the 
confidence  of  the  most  eminent  clergymen  in  the  metrop- 
olis :  "September  yth,  1823.  I  preached  to-day  at  St. 
George's,  St.  Pancras,  and  the  Magdalen,  and  was  heard 
at  each  place  by  the  same  party  from  the  country,  who 
went  to  St.  George's  to  hear  the  Dean  of  Carlisle,  to  St. 
Pancras  to  hear  Moore,  and  to  the  Magdalen  to  hear 
Pitman  !  Poor  creatures  !  they  were  ignorant  that  the 
great  preachers  are  away  in  September!"  In  1825  he 
was  appointed  Minister  of  Regent  Square  Chapel,  an 
important  and  arduous  post,  which  he  occupied  for  nearly 
twenty  years.  His  success  in  the  pulpit  was  the  principal 
cause  of  his  being  selected  for  it ;  and  during  his  time 
the  chapel  was  densely  crowded,  not  only  by  parishioners, 
but  by  members  of  other  congregations.  At  a  later 
period  a  church  was  built  for  him  at  Knightsbridge. 
His  last  literary  labor  was  to  edit  the  Letters  and  write 
the  "  Life  of  Miss  Mitford." 

The  end  of  Harness  was  a  tragical  one.  In  November, 
1869,  he  made  a  visit  into  the  country  at  the  Deanery  of 
an  old  friend.  He  was  well  when  he  arrived,  and  spent 
the  greater  portion  of  two  days  in  reading  Shakespeare. 
The  next  day  he  walked  for  a  considerable  time  up  and 
down  the  garden,  and  returning  to  the  house  by  some  new 
stairs,  remarked  to  the  Dean,  "  When  you  are  an  old 
man  you  '11  repent  having  placed  those  stairs  there  1  " 
His  last  hour  was  approaching.  "  Later  in  the  day  some 
friends  called,  and  a  lady  observed  that  he  secim •<!  in  un- 
usually good  spirits,  and  that,  but  for  his  slight  deafness. 
no  one  would  have  thought  him  an  old  man.  He  talked 
with  animation,  and  seemed  to  take  as  much  interest  as 


PREFACE.  XV 

ever  in  the  affairs  of  life,  although  he  observed,  somewhat 
sadly,  that  he  had  survived  all  his  contemporary  friends. 
They  left  at  six  o'clock,  and,  the  Dean  having  by  this 
time  started  to  keep  an  engagement  in  St.  Leonards,  Mr. 
Harness  was  left  quite  alone.  At  half -past  six  his  ser- 
vant came  to  the  study  to  inform  him  that  it  was  time  to 
prepare  for  dinner,  when,  to  his  consternation,  he  found 
the  room  vacant ;  and  almost  at  the  same  time  the  butler, 
who  was  going  across  the  hall,  was  horrified  at  finding 
Mr.  Harness's  body  lying  head-foremost  at  the  bottom  of 
the  stone  stairs.  He  saw  at  once  that  he  was  dead  ;  his 
head  was  lying  in  a  pool  of  blood  ;  but  his  expression  was 
so  peaceful  and  benign,  the  man  said,  that,  although  he 
knew  he  was  dead,  he  could  almost  have  imagined  he 
was  asleep. 

"  It  seems  probable  that  Mr.  Harness  left  the  study 
when  the  light  was  uncertain,  just  before  the  lamps  were 
lit,  and  in  the  dusk  did  not  observe  the  staircase.  On 
examination,  it  was  found  that  the  skull  was  severely 
fractured."  He  died  on  the  nth  of  November,  1869,  in 
his  eightieth  year. 

Of  George  Hodder  I  know  only  what  he  has  chosen 
to  tell  regarding  himself,  which  is  next  to  nothing. 
Sensible,  modest,  hard-working,  he  does  not  appear  to 
have  been  fortunate  in  his  profession.  His  chief  claim 
to  remembrance  is  that  he  was  the  amanuensis  of  Thack- 
eray, when  that  great  writer  was  composing  his  "Four 
Georges." 

From  the  recollections  of  this  unknown  man  of  letters, 
and  these  well  known  English  clergymen,  the  materials  of 
the  present  volume  are  drawn.  Mr.  Hodder's  rambling 
autobiography  is  entitled  "  Memoirs  of  my  Time,  includ- 
ing Personal  Reminiscences  of  Eminent  Men  "  (London, 


xvi  PREFACE. 

1870).  The  biography  of  Byron's  schoolfellow,  "The 
Literary  Life  of  the  Rev.  William  Harness "  (London 
1871),  was  written  by  the  Rev.  A.  G.  L'Estrange,  a  trusted 
friend,  who  assisted  him  in  collecting  and  arranging  the 
letters  of  Miss  Mitford.  The  biography  of  the  creator  of 
Ingoldsby,  "  The  Life  and  Letters  of  the  Rev.  Richard 
Harris  Barham  "  (London  1870),  was  written  by  his  son, 
R.  H.  D.  Barham.  The  substance  of  these  volumes  is 
here  presented,  and  I  trust  it  will  prove  entertaining. 

R.  H.  S. 


RICHARD    HARRIS    BARHAM. 


RICHARD    HARRIS    BARHAM. 


THEODORE  HOOK. 

j|BOUT  this  time  (1827)  Mr.  Barbara  found  opportuni- 
ties of  renewing  his  acquaintance  with  one,  who,  in 
many  respects,  was  to  be  ranked  among  the  most  ex- 
traordinary men  of  his  age  —  Mr.  Theodore  Hook. 
To  say  nothing  of  this  gentleman's  unequaled  happiness  in  im- 
promptu versification,  conveying,  as  he  not  unfrequently  did,  a 
perfect  epigram  in  every  stanza  —  a  talent,  by  the  way,  which 
sundry  rivals  have  affected  to  consider  mere  knack,  and  one  of 
whom  long  bore  in  his  side  the  lethalis  arundo  of  James  Smith, 
for  his  bungling  effort  at  imitation  ;  to  pass  by  those  practical 
jokes  with  which  his  name  is  so  commonly  associated,  and  in 
the  devising  and  perpetration  of  which  he  was  facile  priticeps, 
Mr.  Hook  possessed  depth  and  originality  of  mind,  little 
dreamed  of,  probably,  by  those  who  were  content  to  bask  in  the 
sunshine  of  his  wit,  and  to  gaze  with  wonder  at  the  superficial 
talents  which  he  exhibited  at  table,  but  sufficient,  nevertheless, 
to  place  him  far  beyond  the  position  of  a  mere  sayer  of  good 
things,  or  "  diner-out  of  the  first  water."  To  those,  indeed, 
who  have  never  been  fortunate  enough  to  witness  those  extraor- 
dinary displays,  no  description  can  convey  even  a  faint  idea  of 
the  brilliancy  of  his  conversational  powers,  of  the  inexhaustible 
prodigality  with  which  he  showered  around  puns,  bon  mots, 
apt  quotations,  and  every  variety  of  anecdote  ;  throwing  life 
and  humor  into  all  by  the  exquisite  adaptation  of  eye,  tone, 
and  gesture  to  his  subject.  His  writings,  admirable  as  they 


2O  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARUA.V. 

are,  fail  to  impress  one  in  any  way  commensurate  with  his  so- 
ciety. 

Of  the  few  sketches  of  him  that  have  been  given  in  works  of 
fiction,  not  one  can  claim  the  merit  of  being  more  than  a  most 
shadowy  resemblance.  It  needs  a  graphic  skill  surpassing  his 
own  to  draw  his  portrait  with  any  approach  to  correctness. 
Nowhere,  perhaps,  is  failure  more  conspicuous  than  in  the  mis- 
erable and  meagre  attempt  in  "  Coningsby."  Not  the  faintest 
glow  of  humor,  not  one  flash  of  wit,  not  an  ebullition  of  merri- 
ment breaks  forth  from  first  to  last ;  the  author,  apparently  in 
utter  incapacity  for  the  task,  contents  himself  with  simply  ob- 
serving, "  Here  Mr.  Lucian  Gay  (the  name  under  which  Hook 
is  introduced)  was  vastly  amusing,"  "there  he  made  the  table 
roar,"  etc.,  much  in  the  manner  of  the  provident  artist,  who,  to 
obviate  mistake,  affixed  the  notice  to  his  painting,  —  "  This  is 
the  lion  —  this  is  the  dog!"  Of  the  moral  portraiture  I  will 
venture  to  say  that  it  is  as  unjust  as  the  intellectual  is  weak. 
As  regards  the  great  calamity  —  the  defalcation  at  the  Mau- 
ritius —  which  befell  him  in  his  youth,  and  which  darkened  the 
remainder  of  his  career,  shutting  out  hope,  paralyzing  his  best 
energies,  and  by  consequence  inducing  much  of  that  reckless- 
ness of  living  which  served  to  embitter  his  privacy  and  hasten 
his  end,  it  may  almost  be  unnecessary  to  say,  that  one  who 
continued  to  regard  him  with  the  feelings  of  affection  which  Mr. 
Barham  entertained  to  the  last,  must  have  had  full  reason  for 
believing  him  free  from  every  imputation  save  that  of  careless- 
ness, not  wholly  inexcusable  in  one  so  young,  so  inexperienced, 
and  so  constitutionally  light-hearted. 

Of  what  appears  to  have  been  his  first  interview  with  his 
old  companion  after  their  separation  at  college,  my  father  gives 
a  somewhat  detailed  account :  — 

"  Ntrvember  6,  1827. —  Passed  one  of  the  pleasantest  even- 
ings I  ever  spent  at  Lord  William  Lennox's.  The  company, 
besides  the  host  and  hostess,  consisted  of  Mr.  Cannon,  Mr. 
C.  Walpole,  Mr.  Hill,  generally  known  as  'Torn  Hill,'  Theo- 
dore Hook,  and  myself.  It  was  Hook's  first  visit  there,  and 
none  of  the  party  but  myself,  Cannon,  and  Hill,  who  were  old 


THEODORE  HOOK.  21 

friends  of  his,  had  ever  seen  him  before.  While  at  dinner,  he 
began  to  be  excessively  amusing.  The  subject  of  conversa- 
tion was  an  absurdly  bombastic  prologue,  which  had  been 
given  to  Cooper  of  D.  L.  T.,  to  get  by  heart,  as  a  hoax,  begin- 
ning :— 

"  '  When  first  the  Drama's  muse,  by  Freedom  reared, 
In  Grecian  splendor  unadorned  appeared, 
Her  eagle  glance,  high  poised  in  buoyant  hope 
O'er  realms  restricted  by  no  partial  scope, 
Saw  one  vast  desert  hoirify  the  scene  ; 
No  bright  oasis  showed  its  mingling  green, 
But  all  around,  in  colors  darkly  rude, 
Scowled  forth  the  intellectual  solitude! 
And  vain  her  heart  till  Time's  translucent  tide, 
Like  some  sweet  stream  that  scarcely  seems  to  glide, 
The  heaven-engendered  embers  fanned  to  flame. 
The  ray  burst  forth !     Immortal  Shakespeare  came ! 
'T  was  his  with  renovated  warmth  to  glow, 
To  feel  tint  fire  within  '•  that  passelh  show," 
And  nobly  daring  in  a  dastard  age 
To  raise,  reform,  and  dignify  the  stage  ! 
To  force  from  lids  unsullied  by  a  tear 
The  pensive  drops  (hit  bathe  fond  Juliet's  b:er, 
Bow  the  duped  Moor  o:er  Desdemona's  corse, 
Or  bid  the  blood-stained  tyrant  cry  "  A  horse!  " 
Waft  the  rapt  soul  with  more  than  seraph  flight 
From  fair  Itilia's  realms  of  soft  delight, 
To  mourn  with  Imogen  her  murdered  lord, 
Or  bare  the  patriot  stoic's  vengeful  sword, 
To  raise  the  poet's  noblest  cry  "  Be  free !  " 
To  breathe  the  tocsin  blast  of  "  Liberty  ! ''  'etc. 

"  Gattie,  whose  vanity  is  proverbial,  was  included  in  the  joke. 
Wallack,  the  stage-manager,  who  had  the  arranging  of  it,  pro- 
duced some  equally  ridiculous  lines,  which  he  said  Poole,  the 
author  of  the  new  comedy  ('  The  Wealthy  Widow '),  had  written 
for  him,  but  that  he  had  not  sufficient  nerve  to  deliver  them. 

"  '  No  man  on  the  stage  has  such  nerve  as  I,'  interrupted 
Gattie. 

"  '  Then  it  must  be  spoken  in  five  characters  ;  the  dresses  to 
be  thrown  off  one  after  the  other.' 

"  '  No  performer  can  change  his  dress  so  quickly  as  I  can,' 
quoth  Gattie. 


22  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM 

"'Then  I  am  afraid  of  the  French  dialect  and  the  Irish 
brogue.' 

"  '  I  'm  the  only  Frenchman  and  Irishman  -on  the  stage,' 
roared  Gattie. 

"  The  hoax  was  complete,  and  poor  Gattie  sat  up  the  whole 
night  to  learn  the  epilogue  ;  went  through  three  rehearsals 
with  five  dresses  on,  one  over  the  other,  as  a  Lady,  a  Dutch- 
man, a  Highlander,  a  Teague,  and  lastly  as  '  Monsieur  Tonson 
come  again.'  All  sorts  of  impediments  were  thrown  in  his 
way.  such  as  sticking  his  breeches  to  his  kilt,  etc.  The  time 
at  length  arrived,  when  the  stage-manager  informed  him  with 
a  long  face,  that  Coleman,  the  licenser,  instigated  no  doubt  by 
Mathews,  who  trembled  for  his  reputation,  had  refused  to 
license  the  epilogue  ;  and  poor  Gattie,  after  waiting  during  the 
whole  of  the  interlude  in  hopes  that  the  license  might  yet  come 
down,  was  obliged  to  retire  most  reluctantly  and  disrobe. 

"  Hook  took  occasion  from  this  story  to  repeat  part  of  a  pro- 
logue which  he  once  spoke  as  an  amateur  before  a  country 
audience,  without  one  word  being  intelligible  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  end.  He  afterwards  preached  part  of  a  sermon 
in  the  style  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Fisher  of  Norwich,  of  whom  he 
gave  a  very  humorous  account.  Not  one  sentence  of  the 
harangue  could  be  understood,  and  yet  you  could  not  help,  all 
through,  straining  your  attention  to  catch  the  meaning.  He 
then  gave  us  many  absurd  particulars  of  the  Berners  Street 
hoax,  which  he  admitted  was  contrived  by  himself  and  Henry 

H ,  who  was  formerly  contemporary  with  me  at  Brasenose 

and  whom  I  knew  there,  now  a  popular  preacher  at  Poplar. 
He  also  mentioned  another  of  a  similar  character,  but  previous 
in  point  of  time,  of  which  he  had  been  the  sole  originator.  The 
object  of  it  was  a  Mr.  William  Griffiths,  a  Quaker  who  lived 
in  Henrietta  Street,  Covent  Garden.  Among  other  things 
brought  to  his  house  were  the  dresses  of  a  Punch  and  nine 
blue  devils,  and  the  Ixxly  of  a  man  from  Lambeth  bone-house, 
who  had  the  day  before  been  drowned  in  the  Thames. 

"  In  the  evening,  after  Lady  Willi  un  had  sung  '  I  've  been 
roaming.'  Hook  placed  himself  at  the  pianoforte,  and  gave  a 


THEODORE  HOOK.  2$ 

most  extraordinary  display  of  his  powers  both  as  a  musician 
and  an  improvisatore.  His  assumed  object  was  to  give  a 
specimen  of  the  burlettas  formerly  produced  at  Sadler's 
Wells,  and  he  went  through  the  whole  of  one  which  he  com- 
posed upon  the  spot.  He  commenced  with  the  tuning  of  the 
instruments,  the  prompter's  bell,  the  rapping  of  the  fiddle- 
stick by  the  leader  of  the  band,  and  the  overture,  till,  the  cur- 
tain being  supposed  to  rise,  he  proceeded  to  describe  — 

"  The  first  scene.  —  A  country  village  —  cottage  (o.  P.)  — 
church  (P.  s.) —  large  tree  near  wing  —  bridge  over  a  river  oc- 
cupying the  centre  of  the  background.  Music. —  Little  men 
in  red  coats  seen  riding  over  bridge.  Enter  Gaffer  from  cot- 
tage, to  the  symphony  usually  played  on  introducing  old  folks 
on  such  occasions.  Gaffer,  in  recitative,  intimates  that  he  is 
aware  that  the  purpose  of  the  Squire  in  thus  early 

A  crossing  over  the  water, 
Is  to  hunt,  not  the  stag,  but  my  lovely  daughter. 

Sings  a  song  and  retires,  to  observe  Squire's  motions,  ex- 
pressing a  determination  to  balk  his  intentions  ; 

For  a  peasant 's  a  man,  and  a  Squire  's  no  more, 
And  a  father  has  feelings,  though  never  so  poor. 

"  Enter  Squire  with  his  train.  —  Grand  chorus  of  hunts- 
men —  '  Merry-toned  horn  —  Blithe  is  the  morn  —  Hark,  for- 
ward, away  !  —  Glorious  Day,'  '  Bright  Phoebus,'  '  Aurora,' 
etc.,  etc. 

"  The  Squire  dismisses  all  save  his  confidant,  to  whom,  in 
recitative,  he  avows  his  design  of  carrying  off  the  old  man's 
daughter,  then  sings  under  her  window.  The  casement  up 
one  pair  of  stairs  opens.  Susan  appears  at  it,  and  sings  — 
asking  whether  the  voice  which  has  been  serenading  her  is 
that  of  her 

True  blue  Willia-n,  who,  on  the  seas, 
Is  b!own  about  by  every  breeze  ? 

"  The  Squire  hiding  behind  the  tree,  she  descends  to  satisfy 
herself  ;  is  accosted  by  him,  and  refuses  his  offer ;  he  at- 
tempts force.  The  old  man  interferes,  lectures  the  Squire, 
locks  up  his  daughter,  and  exit  (p.  s.).  Squire  sings  a  song 


24  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARIfAAf. 

expressive  ot  rage  and  his  determination  to  obtain  the  girl,  and 
erit  (P.  s.). 

"  Whistle  —  Scene  changes  with  a  slap.  —  Public-house 
door  ;  sailors  carousing,  with  long  pig-tails,  checked  shirts, 
glazed  hats,  and  blue  trousers.  Chorus  — '  Jolly  tars  — 
Plough  the  main  —  Kiss  the  girls  —  Sea  again.'  William,  in 
recitative,  states  that  he  has  been  '  With  brave  Rodney,'  and 
has  got  '  gold  galore  ; '  tells  his  messmates  he  has  heard  a 
land-lubber  means  to  run  away  with  his  sweetheart,  and  asks 
their  assistance.  They  promise  it :  — 

Tip  u*  your  fin  !    We  '11  stick  t'  ye,  my  hearty. 
And  beat  him  !     Hav'  n't  we  beat  Boneyparty  ? 

Sofa,  by  William,  'Girl  of  my  heart — Never  part.'  Chorus 
of  sailors  —  'Shiver  my  timbers,'  'Smoke  and  fire  —  D — n 
the  Squire,'  etc.,  etc.  (IVhistle  —  Scene  closes  —  slap.) 

"Scene — the  village  as  before.  Enter  Squire;  recon- 
noitres in  recitative ;  beckons  on  Gypsies,  headed  by  confi- 
dant in  red.  Chorus  of  Gypsies  entering  —  '  Hark  ?  hark  ?  — 
Butchers'  dogs  bark  !  —  Bow,  wow,  wow  —  Not  now,  not 
now.'  '  Silence,  hush  !  —  Behind  the  bush  —  Hush  !  hush  ! 
hush  ! '  —  '  Bow,  wow,  wow.'  —  '  Hush  !  hush  !  —  Bow,  wow.' 
—  '  Hush  !  hush  !  hush  !  Enter  Susan  from  cottage.  Reci- 
tative— 

What  can  keep  father  so  long  at  market  ? 
The  sun  has  set,  nltlio'  it 's  not  quite  dark  yet. 

—  Butter  and  eggs, 

—  Weary  legs. 

"  Gypsies  rush  on  and  seize  her ;  she  screams ;  Squire 
comes  forward.  Recitative  Affettuoso  —  She,  scornful,  im- 
ploring, furious,  frightened  !  Squire  offers  to  seize  her ; 
True  Blue  rushes  down  and  interposes  ;  Music  agitato ; 
Sailors  in  pig-tails  beat  off  Gypsies  ;  Confidant  runs  up  the 
tree  ;  True  Blue  collars  Squire.  Enter  Gaffer  :  — 

Hey-day  1  what  '*  all  this  clatter  : 

William  ashore    —  why,  wh.it 's  the  matter? 

"  William  releases  Squire  ;  turns  to  Sue  ;  she  screams  and 
runs  to  him ;  embrace  ;  '  Lovely  Sue  —  Own  True  Blue.1 


THEODORE  HOOK.  2$ 

She  faints  ;  Gaffer  goes  for  gin  ;  she  recovers  and  refuses  it ; 
Gaffer  winks,  and  drinks  it  himself;  Squire,  Recitative  — 
'  Never  knew  —  About  True  Blue  —  Constant  Sue.'  '  Devil- 
ish glad  —  Here,  my  lad  —  What  says  dad  ? '  William,  recita- 
tive — '  Thank  ye,  Squire  —  Heart's  desire  —  Roam  no  more 
—  Moored  ashore.'  Squire  joins  lovers  — '  Take  her  hand  — 
house,  and  bit  of  land,  my  own  ground  — 

'  And  for  a  portion  here  "s  two  hundred  pound  '  ' 

Grand  chorus ;  huntsmen,  gypsies,  and  sailors  with  pig-tails  ; 
Solo,  Susan  —  'Constant  Sue  —  Own  True  Blue.'  Chorus; 
Solo,  William — 'Dearest  wife  —  laid  up  for  life.'  Chorus; 
Solo,  Squire  —  '  Happy  lovers  —  truth  discovers.'  Chorus; 
Solo,  Gaffer  —  '  Curtain  draws  —  your  applause.'  Grand 
chorus ;  huntsmen,  gypsies,  sailors  in  pig- tails  ;  William  and 
Susan  in  centre  ;  Gaffer  (o.  P.),  Squire  (P.  s.),  retire  sing- 
ing— 

Biithe  and  gay —  Hark  away  ! 

Merry,  merry  May  ; 

Bill  and  Susan's  wedding-day." 

Such  is  a  brief  sketch  of  one  of  those  extemporaneous 
melodramas  with  which  Hook,  when  in  the  vein,  would  keep 
his  audience  in  convulsions  for  the  best  part  of  an  hour.  Per- 
haps, had  his  improvising  powers  been  restricted  to  that 
particular  class  of  composition,  the  impromptu  might  have 
been  questioned  ;  but  he  more  generally  took  for  subjects  of 
his  drollery  the  company  present,  never  succeeding  better 
than  when  he  had  been  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  names  of 
those  he  was  about  to  meet.  But,  at  all  times,  the  facility 
with  which  he  wrought  in  what  had  occurred  at  table,  and  the 
points  he  made  bearing  upon  circumstances  impossible  to 
have  been  foreseen,  afforded  sufficient  proof  that  the  whole 
was  unpremeditated.  Neither  in  this,  nor  in  any  other  of  his 
conversational  displays,  was  there  anything  of  trickery  or 
effort.  No  abruptness  was  apparent  in  the  introduction  of  an 
anecdote  ;  there  was  no  eager  looking  for  an  opportunity  to 
fire  off  a  pun,  and  no  anxiety  touching  the  fate  of  what  he  had 
said.  In  fact,  he  had  none  of  the  artifice  of  the  professional 


26  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

wit  about  him,  and  none  of  that  assumption  and  caprice  which 
minor  "  lions  "  exhibit  so  liberally  to  their  admirers.  It  may 
be  fairly  said,  as  he  knew  no  rival,  so  he  has  left  no  suc- 
cessor. 

"  Nature  )o  fece,  e  poi  ruppe  la  stampa  " 

A  kindred  spirit  and  a  similarity  of  style  have  been  found 
by  critics  in  the  writings  —  that  is  to  say,  in  the  poetical  com- 
positions of  Theodore  Hook  and  Thomas  Ingoldsby.  And 
here  the  latter  would  probably  have  had  little  to  fear  from  a 
comparison.  Even  in  point  of  facility  he  was  hardly,  if  at  all, 
inferior  to  his  friend.  I  am  not  aware  indeed  that  my  father, 
with  a  single  exception,1  ever  attempted  any  extempore  ef- 
fusion, but  pen  in  hand  he  would  have  hit  off  a  dozen  lively 
stanzas  on  a  given  subject,  with  a  rapidity  equal  to  that  of  any 
writer  of  the  day.  In  conversation,  dismissing  all  notion  of 
equality  between  the  powers  of  the  two,  it  may  be  observed 
that,  with  some  points  of  resemblance,  a  much  greater  diver- 
sity of  manner  separated  them  than  when  their  pleasantries 
were  expressed  in  rhyme.  Mr.  Barham  uttered  scarcely  a 
dozen  puns  in  the  course  of  his  life.  He  loved  rather  to  play 
with  a  subject  something  after  the  manner  of  Charles  Lamb ; 
and  his  humor,  always  genial,  was  displayed  in  an  agreeable 
irony  (in  the  stricter  and  inoffensive  sense  of  the  term)  which 
sometimes  strangely  perplexed  matter-of-fact  folks.  Ready 
and  fluent  in  conversation,  and  having  at  command  an  un- 
common fund  of  anecdote,  upon  which  he  would  draw  largely, 
he  possessed  in  addition  one  very  valuable  qualification  —  he 
was  an  excellent  listener.  In  English  literature  he  was  well 
read,  and  moreover  displayed  just  enough  of  that  old-fash- 
ioned love  of  classical  allusion  and  quotation  to  give  a  season- 
ing to  his  discourse,  and  a  certain  refinement  to  his  wit,  which, 
without  exposing,  him  to  the  charge  of  pedantry,  bespoke  the 
scholar  and  the  man  of  taste. 

"March  13,  1828. —  Lord  W.  Lennox,  Sir  Andrew  Barnard, 
Theodore  Hook,  Mr.  Price,  Capt.  E.  Smart,  and  Cannon  dined 

1  Once  in  the  company  of  a  few  intimate  friends,  he  wax  induced  to  improvise  a 
V>MR  which,  with  very  little  correction,  was  afterwards  published  *»  .Ifr.  Same?  .Va- 
fm'rt'i  Acct*mi  o/ tkr  Coconut  ion. 


THEODORE  HOOK.  27 

here.  The  last  told  a  story  of  a  manager  at  a  country  theatre 
who,  having  given  out  the  play  of  '  Douglas,'  found  the  whole 
entertainment  nearly  put  to  a  stop  by  the  arrest  of  Young 
Norval  as  he  was  entering  the  theatre.  In  this  dilemma,  no 
other  performer  of  the  company  being  able  to  take  the  part, 
he  dressed  up  a  tall,  gawky  lad  who  snuffed  the  candles,  in  a 
plaid  and  philabeg,  and  pushing  him  on  the  stage,  advanced 
himself  to  the  footlights  with  the  book  in  his  hand,  and  ad- 
dressed the  audience  with,  '  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  — 

'  '1  his  young  gentleman's  name  is  Norval.     On  the  Grampian  hills 
His  father  feeds  his  flock,  a  frugal  swaiu, 
Whose  constant  care  was  to  increase  his  store, 
And  keep  his  only  son  (this  young  gentleman)  at  home. 
For  this  young  gentleman  had  heard  of  battles,  and  he  longed 
To  follow  to  the  field  some  warlike  lord  ; 

And  Heaven  soon  granted  what  — :  this  young  gentleman's  —  sire  denied. 
The  moon  which  rose  last  night,  round  as  this  gentleman's  shield. 
Had  not  yet  filled  her  horns,'  etc. 

And  so  on  through  the  whole  of  the  play,  much  to  the  de- 
lectation of  the  audience.1 

"  In  the  evening  Hook  went  to  the  piano,  and  played  and 
sang  a  long  extempore  song,  principally  leveled  against  Can- 
non, who  had  gone  up  earlier  than  the  rest,  and  fallen  asleep 
on  the  sofa  in  the  drawing-room.  Sir  Andrew  Barnard,  who 
now  met  the  former  for  the  first  time,  expressed  a  wish  to 
witness  more  of  his  talent  as  an  improvisatore,  and  gave  him 
Sir  Christopher  Wren  as  a  subject,  on  which  he  infmediately 
commenced,  and  sang,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  twenty 
or  thirty  stanzas  to  a  different  air,  all  replete  with  humor." 

"  March  23,  1828.  —  Dined  at  Sir  Andrew  Barnard's  in  the 
Albany.  The  party  consisted  of  Theodore  Hook,  Price,  Can- 
non, Lord  Graves,  Lord  W.  Lennox,  Col.  Armstrong,  Walpole, 
and  myself.  Sir  Andrew  was  called  away  to  attend  the  King, 
but  returned  before  ten.  In  the  mean  time  an  unpleasant  alter- 

1  In  this  anecdote,  which  rests  on  the  authority  of  a  celebrated  singer  who  told  it  to 
Cannon  as  having  been  herself  present  at  the  representation,  will  be  recognized  the 
subject  of  one  of  the  older  Mathews's  most  successful  scenas  ;  it  was  repeated  by 
Mr.  Barham  to  Mr.  Peake,  who  introduced  it  in  Afatftewf's  Comic  A  ttnuai  for 


28  RICHARD  HARRK  BAR  HAM. 

cation  took  place  between  Cannon  and  Hook,  owing  to  an  allu- 
sion, somewhat  ill-timed,  made  by  the  former  to  '  treasury  de- 
faulters.' This  circumstance  interrupted  the  harmony  of  the 
evening,  and  threw  a  damp  upon  the  party.  Hook  made  but 
one  pun  ;  on  Walpole's  remarking  that,  of  two  paintings  men- 
tioned, one  was  '  a  shade  above  the  other  in  point  of  merit,' 
he  replied,  '  I  presume  you  mean  to  say  it  was  a  shade  over 
(chef  (Tauvre)!  " 

"September  6,  1828.  —  Called  at  Hook's  on  my  return  from 
the  Isle  of  Thanet.  Mr.  Powell  there  ;  then  came  in  a  Mr. 

E ,  an  Irish  barrister,  rich  and  stingy,  from  whom  Hook 

afterwards  told  me  he  had  taken  his  character  of  Gcrvase 
Skinner,  in  the  third  series  of  '  Sayings  and  Doings.'  He 
mentioned,  in  proof  of  the  saving  propensities  of  this  gentle- 
man, that  on  a  visit  to  Dover  Castle  with  the  Crokers  he  was 
about  to  leave  without  offering  anything  to  the  sergeant  who 
had  attended  them,  when  Mrs.  Croker,  observing  the  omission, 
borrowed  half  a  crown  from  her  friend,  in  the  absence  of  her 
husband,  for  the  purpose  of  rewarding  the  man.  This  she 
repaid  at  the  hotel  before  going  down  to  dinner.  But  Mr. 

E ,  making  many  excuses,  affected  to  be  half-affronted  at 

her  insisting  on  discharging  the  debt,  and  with  becoming  in- 
dignation threw  the  coin  upon  the  table,  There  it  lay  till  the 
waiter  announced  dinner,  when  offering  his  left  arm  to  the 
lady,  hcaontrived  in  passing  to  slip  the  piece  of  money  —  unob- 
served as  he  thought  —  off  the  table  with  his  right  hand,  and 
deposit  it  in  his  breeches  pocket. 

"  Hook  told  us  an  amusing  story  of  his  going  down  to 
Worcester,  to  see  his  brother  the  dean,  with  Henry  Hig- 
gin.son  (his  companion  in  many  of  his  frolics).  They  arrived 
separately  at  the  coach,  and  taking  their  places  in  the  inside, 
opposite  to  each  other,  pretended  to  be  strangers.  After  some 
time  they  begin  to  hoax  their  fellow-travellers  —  the  one  af- 
fecting to  see  a  great  many  things  not  to  be  seen,  the  other 
confirming  it  and  admiring  them. 

14 '  What  a  beautiful  house  that  on  the  hill  ! '  cried  Hi-u'in- 
non,  when  no  house  was  near  the  spot ;  '  it  must  command  ;i 


THEODORE  HOOK'.  29 

most  magnificent  prospect  from  the  elevation  on  which  it 
stands.' 

"  '  Why,  yes,'  returned  Hook,  '  the  view  must  be  extensive 
enough,  but  I  cannot  think  these  windows  in  good  taste  ;  to 
run  out  bay  windows  in  a  gothic  front,  in  my  opinion,  ruins  the 
effect  of  the  whole  building.' 

"  '  Ah  !  that  is  the  new  proprietor's  doings,'  was  the  reply, 
'  they  were  not  there  when  the  marquis  had  possession.' 
Here  one  of  their  companions  interfered  ;  he  had  been  stretch- 
ing his  neck  for  some  time,  in  the  vain  hope  of  getting  a 
glimpse  of  the  mansion  in  question,  and  now  asked, — 

" '  Pray,  sir,  what  house  do  you  mean  ?  I  don't  see  any 
house.' 

" '  That,  sir,  with  the  turrets  and  large  bay  windows  on  the 
hill,'  said  Hook,  with  profound  gravity,  pointing  to  a  thick 
wood.' 

"  '  Dear  me,'  returned  the  old  gentleman,  bobbing  about  to 
catch  the  desired  object,  '  I  can't  see  it  for  those  confounded 
trees.' 

"  The  old  gentleman,  luckily  for  them,  proved  an  indefatiga- 
ble asker  of  questions,  and  the  answers  he  received  of  course 
added  much  to. his  stock  of  authentic  information. 

" '  Pray,  sir,  do  you  happen  to  know  to  whom  that  house 
belongs  ? '  inquired  he,  pointing  to  a  magnificent  mansion  and 
handsome  park  in  the  distance. 

"  '  That,  sir,'  replied  Hook,  '  is  Womberly  Hall,  the  seat  of 
Sir  Abraham  Hume,  which  he  won  at  billiards  from  the  Bishop 
of  Bath  and  Wells.' 

"  '  You  don't  say  so  !  '  cried  the  old  gentleman,  in  pious  hor- 
ror, and  taking  out  his  pocket-book  begged  his  informant  to 
repeat  the  name  of  the  seat,  which  he  readily  did,  and  it  was 
entered  accordingly  —  the  old  gentleman  shaking  his  head 
gravely  the  while,  and  bewailing  the  profligacy  of  an  age  in 
which  dignitaries  of  the  church  practiced  gambling  to  so  alarm- 
ing an  extent. 

"  The  frequt,r  ,.y  of  the  remarks,  however,  made  by  the  asso- 
ciates on  objects  which  the  eyesight  of  no  one  else  was  good 


30  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

trough  to  take  in  began  at  length  to  excite  some  suspicion, 
and  Hook's  breaking  suddenly  into  a  raptuous  exclamation  at 
'the  magnificent  burst  of  the  ocean  !'  in  the  midst  of  an  in- 
land country,  a  Wiltshire  farmer,  who  had  been  for  some  time 
staring  alternately  at  them  and  the  window,  thrust  out  his  head, 
and  after  reconnoitring  for  a  couple  of  minutes  drew  it  in  again, 
and  looking  full  in  the  face  of  the  sea-gazer,  exclaimed  with 
considerable  emphasis,  — 

" '  Well,  now  then,  I  'm  d — d  if  I  think  you  can  see  the 
ocean,  as  you  call  it,  for  all  you  pretends'  —  and  continued 
very  sulky  the  rest  of  the  way." 

"'  December 8,  1828.  — Called  on  Hook.  In  the  course  of 
conversation  he  gave  me  an  account  of  his  going  to  Lord  Mel- 
ville's trial  with  a  friend.  They  went  early,  and  were  engaged 
in  conversation  when  the  peers  began  to  enter.  At  this  mo- 
ment a  country-looking  lady,  whom  he  afterwards  found  to  be 
a  resident  at  Rye,  in  Sussex,  touched  his  arm,  and  said, — 

••  •  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  pray  who  are  those  gentlemen 
in  red  now  coming  in  ? ' 

" '  Those,  ma'am,'  returned  Theodore,  '  are  the  Barons 
of  England  :  in  these  cases  the  junior  peers  always  come 
first.' 

"  '  Thank  you,  sir  ;  much  obliged  to  you.  Louisa,  my  dear  ! 
(turning  to  a  girl  about  fourteen),  tell  Jane  (about  ten)  those 
are  the  Barons  of  England,  and  the  juniors  (that's  the  young- 
est, you  know)  always  goes  first.  Tell  her  to  be  sure  and  re- 
member that  when  we  get  home.' 

'"  Dear  me,  Ma,''  said  Louisa,  'can  that  gentleman  be  one 
of  the  youngest  f  I  am  sure  he  looks  very  old.' 

"'  Human  nature,  added  Hook,  'could  not  stand  this  ;  any 
one,  though  with  no  more  mischief  in  him  than  a  dove,  must 
have  been  excited  to  a  hoax. 

"'  And  pray,  sir,'  continued  the  lady,  'what  gentlemen  are 
these  ? '  pointing  to  the  Bishops,  who  came  next  in  order,  in 
the  dress  which  they  wear  on  state  occasions,  namely  the 
rochet  and  lawn  sleeves  over  their  doctor's  robes. 

"'  Gentlemen,  madam  !  "  said  Hook,  "these are  not  gentle- 


THEODORE  HOOK,  31 

men  :  these  are  ladies  —  elderly  ladies  —  the  dowager  peeresses 
in  their  own  right.  " 

"  '  The  fair  inquirer  fixed  a  penetrating  glance  upon  his  coun- 
tenance, saying,  as  plainly  as  an  eye  can  say,  "  Are  you  quizzing 
me  or  no  ? "  Not  a  muscle  moved  ;  till  at  last,  tolerably  well 
satisfied  with  her  scrutiny,  she  turned  round  and  whispered,  — 

"  '  Louisa,  dear,  the  gentleman  says  that  these  are  elderly 
ladies,  and  dowager  peeresses  in  their  own  right ;  tell  Jane 
not  to  forget  that.' 

"  All  went  on  smoothly  till  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons attracted  her  attention  by  the  rich  embroidery  of  his 
robes. 

" '  Pray,  sir,'  said  she,  '  and  who  is  that  fine-looking  per- 
son opposite  ? ' 

" '  That,  madam,'  was  the  answer,  is  Cardinal  Wolsey !  " 

" '  Now,  sir  ! '  cried  the  lady,  drawing  herself  up,  and  cast- 
ing at  her  informant  a  look  of  angry  disdain,  'we  knows  a  little 
better  than  that ;  Cardinal  Wolsey  has  been  dead  a  good 
year  ! ' 

" '  No  such  thing,  my  dear  madam,  I  assure  you,'  replied 
Hook,  with  a  gravity  that  must  have  been  almost  preter- 
natural ;  '  it  has  been,  I  know,  so  reported  in  the  country,  but 
without  the  least  foundation  ;  in  fact,  those  rascally  newspa- 
pers will  say  anything.' 

"  The  good  old  gentlewoman  appeared  thunderstruck, 
opened  her  eyes  to  their  full  extent,  and  gasped  like  a  dying 
carp  ;  vox  faucibus  hossit —  seizing  a  daughter  with  each  hand, 
she  hurried  without  another  word  from  the  spot." 

Mr.  Hook  has  been  accused  of  a  tolerably  strong  leaning  to 
superstition  ;  one  instance  in  particular  is  given  by  Mrs.  Math- 
ews,  in  the  memoirs  of  her  husband,  of  the  ludicrous  advan- 
tage taken  by  the  latter  of  this  weakness,  to  turn  the  tables  on 
his  fomer  tormentor.  His  biographer  in  "  The  Quarterly  "  also 
alluc'es  to  indications  of  a  similar  feeling  apparent  in  the  diary 
to  which  he  had  access  ;  but  for  these  concurrent  testimonies, 
one  might  be  apt  to  refer  the  following  statement  to  that  love 
of  mystification  in  which  this  singular  being  was  so  profound 


32  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAV. 

an  adept  Mr.  Barham,  however,  always  believed  him  to  have 
spoken  in  perfect  good  faith  ;  and  certainly  the  circumstances 
of  the  story  in  question,  supported,  as  they  are,  by  most  re- 
spectable authority,  have  more  than  common  claims  on  the  at- 
tention of  the  skeptical. 

The  date  of  the  interview  is  not  given,  but  it  must  have 
been  between  September  6th  and  December  8th  of  this  year. 

"  Met  Hook  in  the  Burlington  Arcade  ;  walked  with  him  to 
the  British  Museum.  As  we  passed  down  Great  Russell 
Street,  Hook  paused  oo  arriving  at  Charlotte  Street,  Bedford 
Square,  and,  pointing  to  the  northwest  corner,  nearly  oppo- 
site the  house  (the  second  from  the  corner)  in  which  he  him- 
self was  born,  observed,  — 

"'  There,  by  that  lamp-post,  stood  Martha  the  gypsy  ! '  * 

" '  Yes,'  I  replied,  '  I  know  that  is  the  spot  on  which  you 
make  her  stand.' 

"  'It  is  the  spot,'  rejoined  Hook,  seriously,  'on  which  she 
actually  did  stand  ; '  and  he  went  on  to  say  that  he  entertained 
no  doubt  whatever  as  to  the  truth  of  the  story ;  that  he  had 
simply  given  the  narrative  as  he  had  heard  it  from  one  (Major 
Darby)  who  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  catastrophe,  and  was 
present  when  the  extraordinary  noise  was  heard  on  the  even- 
ing previous  to  the  gentleman's  decease.  He  added,  that  he 
was  intimately  acquainted  with  the  individual  who  had  ex- 
perienced the  effects  of  Martha's  malediction,  and  whose  name 
was  Hough.  He  said,  further,  that  he  had  merely  heightened 
the  first  accident,  which  had  been  but  a  simple  fracture  of  the 
leg,  occasioned  by  his  starting  at  the  sight  of  the  gypsy,  and  so 
slipping  off  the  curb-stone ;  but  that  in  all  other  main  inci- 
dents he  had  adhered  strictly  to  fact." 

"Diary:  August  18,  1835. — Took  young  Tom  Haffenden 
over  with  me  to  Captain  Williams's  at  Strand-on-Green,  and 
went  with  him  and  Theodore  Hook  to  Twickenham,  fishing ; 
caught  little  or  nothing.  Hook  observed  that  as  we  often  had 
fish  without  roc,  now  we  must  be  content  with  rou<  without 
fish.  Gave  excellent  imitation  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland 
and  Colonel  Quentin. 

1   '  'itft  Kim  Scrie»  <>f  S>tjn'*ft  and  Doittgt- 


THEODORE  HOOK.  33 

"  Story  of  Lord  Middleton,  out  hunting,  calling  to  Gunter, 
the  confectioner,  to  '  hold  hard  '  and  not  ride  over  the  hounds. 
'  My  horse  is  so  hot,  my  lord,  that  I  don't  know  what  to  do 
with  him.'  '  Ice  him,  Gunter  ;  ice  him.' 

"  Dined  at  Williams's  afterwards.  Hook  in  high  spirits, 
and  full  of  anecdote.  Stories  of  Grattan,  C.  Fox,  and  Mar- 
quis of  Hertford.  The  latter  said  after  all  his  expenses  were 
paid  he  had  95,ooo/.  per  annum  he  did  not  know  what  to  do 
with  ;  yet  Hook  said  he  questioned  much  whether,  intimate  as 
they  were,  and  kind  as  he  always  was  to  him,  he  would  lend 
him  or  any  other  friend  a  thousand  pounds.  At  his  fetes  the 
dinners  always  ordered  at  two  guineas  and  a  half  a  head,  ex- 
clusive of  wine.  Duke  of  Buccleugh,  on  the  other  hand,  with 
a  yearly  income  of  I72,ooo/.,  not  a  rich  man  ;  his  property 
consumed  by  his  houses  ;  can  go  to  Scotland  by  easy  stages, 
stopping  always  to  sleep  at  some  place  of  his  own. 

"The  house  in-which  I  used  to  visit  F.  Gosling,  the  banker, 
at  Twickenham,  namely,  that  with  the  octagon  room  once  oc- 
cupied by  Louis  Philippe,  the  one  alluded  to  in  '  Gilbert 
Gurney.'  The  wealthy  citizen  described  as  at  Hill's  dinner  in 
the  same,  an  imaginary  character ;  the  others,  Dubois  and 
Mathews. 

"  Hook  assured  me  with  the  greatest  seriousness  that  on  his 
return  from  the  Mauritius  he  and  six  or  seven  more  on  board 
had  seen  the  '  Flying  Dutchman ; '  that  is,  that  at  a  time 
when  they  could  scarce  keep  up  a  rag  of  canvas  for  the  hurri- 
cane, a  large  ship  bore  down  on  the  opposite  tack,  seemingly 
in  the  wind's  eye,  with  all  her  sails  set,  and  apparently  at  the 
distance  of  not  more  than  half  a  mile.  He  told  a  story  of.  a 
gentleman  driving  his  Irish  servant  in  his  cab,  and  saying  to 
him,  half  jocularly,  half  in  anger,  — 

" '  If  the  gallows  had  it 's  due,  you  rascal,  where  would  you 
be  now  ? ' 

"  '  Faith,  then,  your  honor,  it 's  riding  in  this  cab  I  'd  be,  all 
alone  by  myself  may  be  ! ' 

"  He  also  mentioned  that  last  week  an  old  Irishwoman  came 
to  St.  George's  Hospital  to  fetch  away  the  body  of  her  husband, 


34  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

who  had  recently  died.  Not  expecting  it  to  be  claimed,  the 
surgeons  had  been  to  work  and  had  cut  off  the  head,  as  well 
as  those  of  half  a  dozen  more,  for  phrenological  investigation. 
Some  confusion  was  occasioned  by  the  old  woman's  demand, 
as  they  did  not  know  precisely  which  head  belonged  to  any 
specific  corpse. 

'•  •  Had  your  husband  any  mark  you  would  know  him  by?' 
was  asked. 

"'  Oh  !  then  sure  he  had  ;  he  had  a  scar  on  his  right  ar- 
rum.' 

"  The  body,  of  course,  was  identified  at  once  ;  but  to  find  the 
right  head  was  not  so  easy,  especially  as  most  of  them  had 
been  a  good  deal  disfigured.  At  last  one  was  found  that 
seemed  to  fit  better  than  the  others,  and  it  was  carefully  sewn 
on.  When  the  woman  was  admitted  she  at  once  recognized 
the  scar,  which  was  rather  a  remarkable  one  ;  but  when  she 
looked  at  the  face,  '  Oh  !  murder,'  she  cried,  '  and  it 's  death 
that  alters  one  entirely,  it  is  !  My  poor  Dennis  had  carroty 
hair,  and  now  the  head  of  him  is  as  black  as  a  tom-cat ! '  This 
Hook  said  he  had  from  Keate  the  surgeon,  who  declared  it  to 
be  true." 

'•'•Diary:  Wednesday,  August  21,  1839.  —  Hook  drove  me 
down  to  Thames  Ditton,  from  his  house  at  Fulham.  Fished 
all  day,  and  dined  tete-a-tete  at  the  Swan.  He  felt  but  poorly, 
and  complained  much  of  a  cough  which  he  said  they  told  him 
proceeded  from  the  deranged  state  of  his  liver,  and  drank  only 
a  tumbler  of  sherry  and  water,  our  dinner  consisting  of  a  dish 
of  eels  and  a  duck.  Though  not  in  health,  his  spirits  were  as 
good  as  ever.  We  caught  eight  dozen  and  a  half  of  gudgeons, 
and  he  repeated  to  me  almost  as  many  anecdotes.  Among  the 
DC  of  a  trick  he  played  when  a  boy  behind  the  scenes  of 
the  Haymarket.  He  was  there  one  evening,  during  the  heat  of 
the  Westminster  election,  at  the  representation  of  '  The  Wood 
Demon,'  and  observing  the  prompter  with  the  large  speaking 
trumpet  in  his  hand,  used  to  produce  the  supernatural  voices 
incidental  to  the  piece,  he  watched  him  for  some  time,  and  saw 
him  go  through  the  business  more  than  once.  As  the  effect 


RICHARD  HARRIS  BAR  HAM.  35 

was  to  be  repeated,  he  requested  of  the  man  to  be  allowed  to 
make  the  noise  for  him  ;  the  prompter  incautiously  trusted  him 
with  the  instrument,  when,  just  at  the  moment  the  '  Fiend ' 
rose  from  the  trap,  and  the  usual  roar  was  to  accompany  his 
appearance,  '  SHERIDAN  FOR  EVER  !  ! ! '  was  bawled  out  in  the 
deepest  tones  that  could  be  produced  —  not  more  to  the  aston- 
ishment of  the  audience,  than  to  the  confusion  of  the  involun- 
tary partisan  himself,  from  whom  they  seemed  to  proceed. 

"  He  mentioned  also  a  reply  that  he  made  to  the  Duke  of 
Rutland,  who,  observing  him  looking  about  the  hall,  as  they 
were  leaving  the  Marquis  of  Hertford's,  asked  him  what  he 
had  lost  ? 

" '  My  hat ;  if  I  had  as  good  a  beaver  (Belvoir),  as  your 
Grace,  I  should  have  taken  better  care  of  it." 

"  Close  to  the  Swan,  the  house  at  which  we  had  dined,  is 
Boyle  Farm,  the  residence  of  Sir  Edward  Sugden,  whose 
father  was  a  hairdresser.  The  place  is  splendidly  fitted  up, 
and  in  the  hall  is  a  beautiful  vase  of  very  rich  workmanship. 
Hook  said  that  when  he  and  Croker  went  to  dine  there  one 
day  by  invitation  from  Sir  Edward,  their  host  happened  to 
meet  them  in  the  hall,  and  on  their  stopping  for  a  moment  to 
admire  this  fine  specimen  of  art,  he  told  them  that  it  was  a 
fac-simile  of  the  celebrated  one  known  as  the  Warwick  vase. 
'  Aye,'  returned  Croker,  '  it  is  very  handsome  ;  but  don't  you 
think  a  copy  of  the  Barberini  one  would  be  more  appropriate  ? ' 
—  a  question  the  wit  of  which  will  hardly  atone  for  its  ill- 
nature. 

"The  Chartists  had  visited  St.  Paul's  on  the  preceding  Sun- 
day in  a  body,  to  show  '  a  strong  demonstration  of  physical 
force  ; '  I  had  mentioned  that  the  Marquis  of  Westminster 
was  present,  on  which  Hook  said  that  nobleman  had  recently 
received  an  invitation  from  a  particular  friend,  couched  in  the 
following  terms  :  — 

"'DEAR  WESTMINSTER, —  Come  and  dine  with  me  to-mor- 
row. You  will  meet  London,  Chelsea,  and  the  two  Parks. 

" '  Yours,  etc.'  »• 


36  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARIUM. 

Whether  Theodore  Hook  and  his  great  rival,  Mr.  Sydney 
Smith,  ever  met  in  society,  I  do  not  know  ;  if  they  did,  it 
must  have  been  towards  the  close  of  their  career,  when  the 
habitual  caution  of  acknowledged  wits  in  the  presence  of  one 
another,  would  probably  have  prevented  any  unusual  display 
on  either  side.  An  arrangement  was  made  for  the  purpose  of 
bringing  them  together  at  the  table  of  a  common  friend,  but, 
alas  !  a  tailor,  — 

1  What  dire  mishaps  from  trivial  causes  spring! ' 

one  to  whom  Hook  owed  a  considerable  sum,  having  failed  in 
the  interval,  the  latter  was  unable,  or  indisposed,  to  keep  the 
appointment.  The  circumstance  served  to  elicit  one  of  those 
happy  strokes  of  sarcasm  which  the  Canon  dealt  so  adroitly. 

Mr.  H ,  the  host,  not  aware  of  the  cause  of  his  expected 

guest's  detention,  delayed  dinner  for  some  time,  observing 
that  'he  was  sure  Hook  would  come,  as  he  had  seen  him  in 
the  course  of  the  afternoon,  at  the  Anthenaeum,  evidently 
winding  himself  up  for  the  encounter  with  tumblers  of  cold 
brandy  and  water.' 

"  That 's  hardly  fair,"  said  Smith,  "  I  can't  be  expected  to  be 
a  match  for  him,  unless  wound  up  too,  so  when  your  servant 

ushers  in  Mr.  Hook,  let  Mr.  H 's  Punch  be  announced  at 

the  same  time." 

It  was,  I  believe,  at  the  breaking  up  of  the  same  party,  that 
one  of  the  company  having  said  he  was  about  to  '  drop  in  '  at 
Lady  Blessington's,  a  young  gentleman,  a  perfect  stranger  to 
him,  said,  with  the  most  "  gallant  modesty,"  — 

"  Oh  !  then  you  can  take  me  with  you  ;  I  want  very  much  to 
know  her,  and  you  can  introduce  me." 

While  the  other  was  standing  aghast  at  the  impudence  of 
the  proposal,  and  muttering  something  about  being  ••  Init  a 
slight  acquaintance  himself,"  and  "  not  knowing  very  well  how 
he  could  take  such  a  liberty,"  etc.,  Sydney  Smith  observed, — 

"  Pray  oblige  our  young  friend  ;  you  can  do  it  easily  enough 
by  introducing  him  in  a  capacity  very  desirable  at  this  close 
season  of  the  year  —  say  you  are  bringing  with  you  the  cool  oi 
the  evening." 


THEODORE  HOOK.  37 

"Diary:  November  21,  1840.  —  The  Queen  was  this  day 
brought  to  bed  of  the  Princess  Royal,  and  I  carried  the  news 
down  to  Fulham,  where  I  dined  with  Hook,  Francis  Broderip, 
and  Major  Shadwell  Clarke.  The  latter  expressed  himself 
much  annoyed  at  the  infant's  being  a  girl,  as  there  would  be 
no  brevet. 

"  Hook  mentioned  several  anecdotes  of  his  early  life  ; 
among  others,  he  said  that  the  day  on  which  he  was  first  sent 
down  to  Harrow  school,  Lord  Byron,  who  was  there  at  the 
time,  took  him  into  the  square,  showed  him  a  window  at 
which  Mrs.  Drury  was  undressing,  gave  him  a  stone,  and  bid 
him  '  knock  her  eye  out  with  it.'  Hook  threw  the  stone,  and 
broke  the  window.  Next  morning  there  was  a  great  'row' 
about  it,  and  Byron,  coming  up  to  him,  said,  — 

"  '  Well,  my  fine  fellow,  you  've  done  it  !  She  had  but  one 
eye  (the  truth),  and  it's  gone  ! '  Hook's  funk  was  indescrib- 
able. 

"  He  said  that  my  old  friend  Cecil  Tattersall,  whom  I  knew 
at  Canterbury  and  at  Christ  Church,  was  at  that  time  there  ; 
he  was  very  intimate  with  Byron,  and  had  the  sobriquet  of 
'  Punch  Tattersall.' 

"  He  spoke  in  .the  course  of  the  evening  of  his  two  eldest 
daughters,  of  whom  Mary,  the  senior,  had  just  turned  twenty- 
one  ;  the  name  of  the  second  was  Louisa,  and  he  designated 
them  accordingly  as  '  Vingt-un '  and  'Loo!'  He  read  us  a 
letter  also  from  his  eldest  son  in  India,  who  had  just  got  his 
commission  there,  at  the  age  of  seventeen.  It  was  full  of  fun, 
and  showed  much  of  his  father's  talent,  together  with  a  great 
deal  of  good  feeling. 

"  Another  of  his  stories  was  of  Sir  George  Warrender,  who 
was  once  obliged  to  put  off  a  dinner  party  in  consequence  of 
the  death  of  a  relative,  and  sat  down  to  a  haunch  of  venison 
by  himself.  While  eating,  he  said  to  his  butler  :  — 

41 '  John,  this  will  make  a  capital  hash  to-morrow.' 

" '  Yes,  Sir  George,  if  you  leave  off  now  ! ' ' 

The  following  entry  is  without  date.  The  dinner,  however, 
which  it  commemorates,  must  have  been  given  in  the  course  of 


38  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM 

the  year  1840.  Its  main  object  was  to  make  known  Hook  and 
Haliburton,  the  author  of  "  Sam  Slick,"  to  each  other. 

"  Dined  at  Bentley's.  There  were  present,  Hook,  Halibur- 
ton, Jerdan,  Moran,  and  my  son.  Hook  told  us  several  anec- 
dotes, among  others  one  of  Sir  George  Warrender,  and  said 
that  on  one  occasion  that  worthy  baronet,  wishing  to  go  to 
Plymouth,  inquired  of  John  Wilson  Croker,  the  Secretary  to 
the  Admiralty,  of  which  Sir  George  was  one  of  the  lords,  — 

" '  Come,  Mr.  Secretary,  you  understand  these  things  — 
which  is  my  best  route  ?  ' 

"  Croker  described  the  line,  mentioning  the  towns  he  rec- 
ommended him  to  pass  through  ;  '  and  then,'  said  he,  '  not  to 
return  like  a  dog  by  the  same  round  you  went,  you  can  come 
home  through  Wiltshire,  and  see  Stonehenge  on  your  way.' 

" '  Oh,  no,'  said  the  baronet,  '  I  have  no  patience  with  the 
man.  Ever  since  he  tacked  on  that  name  to  his  own,  for  the 
sake  of  the  estate,  he  has  become  so  insufferably  conceited 
that  I  never  wish  to  see  him  again  ! ' 

"It  is  supposed  that  Sir  George  here  alluded  to  Mr.  Hen- 
eage,  M.  P.  for  Devizes,  whose  name  he  was  confounding  with 
that  of  the  ancient  Druidical  monument. 

"In  the  course  of  the  evening,  Hook,  looking  at  my  son, 
said  to  me,  '  How  old  these  young  fellows  make  us  feel !  It 
was  but  the  other  day  that  chap  was  standing  at  my  knee, 
listening  to  my  stories  with  ears,  eyes,  and  mouth  wide  open, 
and  now  he  is  a  man,  I  suppose  ?  ' 

" '  Yes,'  I  said,  '  he  is  three  or  four  and  twenty.' 

"'  Ah,  I  see,  —  Vingt-un  overdrawn.'  " 

"May  5, 1841.  —  Dinner  party  here  :  Lord  Nugent,  Fitzroy 
Stanhope,  Sergeant  Talfourd,  John  Adolphus,  Theodore  Hook, 
Dr.  White,  Frank  Fladgate,  George  Raymond,  and  Dick. 

Anecdote  told  of  the  marriage  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  D ,  son  of 

Lord  G :  '  As  the  happy  pair  were  starting  on  their  wed- 
ding tour,  the  lady's  maid  was  for  putting  a  huge  bandbox  into 

the  carriage.  Mr.  D was  about  to  make  room  for  it.  at 

some  little  inconvenience,  when  an  old  French  valet  who  had 
long  lived  in  the  family  touched  his  young  master's  elbow  and 


THEODORE  HOOK.  39 

said  softly,  "  No,  no,  sare  !  turn  him  out ;  bandbox  to-day, 
bandbox  all  your  life  !  "  '" 

This  was  the  last  time  that  Theodoore  Hook  dined  at 
Amen  Corner  ;  he  was  unusually  late,  and  dinner  was  served 
before  he  made  his  appearance.  Mr.  Barham  apologized  for 
having  sat  down  without  him,  observing  that  he  had  quite  given 
him  up,  and  had  supposed  "  that  the  weather  had  deterred 
him." 

"  Oh  ! "  replied  Hook,  "  I  had  determined  to  come  weather 
or  no." 

He  eat  literally  nothing  but  one  large  slice  of  cucumber, 
but  seemed  in  tolerable  spirits  ;  and  towards  the  end  of  the 
evening,  the  slight  indications  of  effort  which  were  at  first 
visible  had  completely  disappeared.  Lord  Nugent,  who  had 
never  met  him  before,  was  exceedingly  desirous  of  hearing  one 
of  his  extempore  songs,  but  my  father,  certain  that  he  was  ill, 
interfered  and  saved  him  that  exertion.  From  this  time  his 
disease  made  rapid  progress,  and  he  dined  from  home  but  twice 
afterwards,  once  at  Lord  Harrington's,  and  once,  I  believe, 
with  his  friend  Major  Clarke.  Mr.  Barham  saw  him  but  once 
again  ;  on  July  29,  about  a  month  before  his  decease,  the  former 
spent  the  morning  with  him  at  Fulham. 

To  Richard  Bentley,  Esq. 

"  MARGATE,  A  ugust26,  1841. 

"  MY  DEAR  BENTLEY, —  Dick's  letter  and  yours  had  but  too 
well  prepared  me  for  the  melancholy  event  announced  in  your 
last.  Poor  fellow  !  I  little  thought  when  I  shook  his  hand  at 
parting  that  it  was  the  last  time  I  should  ever  grasp  it.  The 
whole  thing,  indeed,  has  quite  upset  me.  All  my  oldest  and 
best  friends  seem  dropping  off  one  by  one.  Poor  Cannon  was 
the  first  to  go,  James  Smith,  Bacon,  Tom  Hill,  and  now  Hook, 
the  one  whom  I  had  known  the  longest  and  spent  the  most 
pleasant  hours  with  of  them  all  !  In  our  college  days,  't  is  true, 
I  saw  comparatively  little  of  him  (for  he  was  only  two  terms 
at  St.  Mary's  Hall),  and  then  his  voyage  to  the  Mauritius  sepa- 
rated us  ;  but  since  his  return,  about  twenty  years  ago,  we  have 


4O  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

ever  been  on  the  most  friendly  terms  of  intimacy  and,  I  believe, 
mutual  regard.  The  world  believes  him  older  than  he  was  ; 
his  birth  took  place  in  September,  1789,  consequently  he  would 
have  been  fifty-three  had  he  lived  a  month  longer.  Independ- 
ent of  the  loss  to  his  private  friends,  I  consider  his  death  just 
at  this  juncture  a  public  calamity.  *  Barnes  gone !  and  Hook 
gone  !  the  two  ablest,  beyond  all  comparison,  of  the  advocates 
of  civil  order  and  all  that  is  valuable  in  our  institutions.  For 
myself  the  shadow  of  a  shade  never  intervened  during  our  long 
intercourse  to  cloud  our  friendship  for  a  moment.  I  have  seen 
him  at  times  irritable,  and  sometimes,  though  rarely  and  only 
when  other  circumstances  had  combined  to  ruffle  him,,disposed 
to  take  offense  with  others;  with  myself  never/  and  it  is  a 
source  of  sincere  satisfaction  to  me  at  this  moment  that  I  can- 
not recall  even  an  expression  of  momentary  petulance  that 
ever  escaped  either  to  the  other.  Among  all  his  numerous  ac- 
quaintance and  friends  there  are  none  who  will  regret  him  more 
sincerely.  Most  faithfully  yours, 

"  R.  H.  BARHAM." 

To  Richard  Bcntley,  Esq. 

"MARGATE,  August V),  1841. 

"  MY  DEAR  BENTLEV,  —  Since  my  return  from  the  business 
which  so  exclusively  occupied  my  attention  this  morning,  I  have 
thought  much  and  anxiously  as  to  the  best  mode  of  proceed- 
ing in  this  business  of  poor  Hook's,  so  as  at  once  to  secure 
your  object  of  not  being  anticipated  and  at  the  same  time  avoid 
anything  that  may  be  premature  or  indelicate.  If  you  were 

a  stranger  to  Mr.  B ,  the  step  I  should  recommend  would 

be  a  different  one  from  that  which,  after  mature  consideration, 
I  would  now  suggest ;  but  you  have  already  been  in  negotia- 
tion with  him  on  Mathews's  account,  which  seems  to  me  to 
make  the  interference,  in  the  first  instance,  of  a  third  party 
between  you,  strange  and  inexpedient.  I  would,  first  of  all, 
write  him  immediately  some  such  letter  as  that  of  which  I 

inclose  a  draft     As  I   have  before  observed,  B- is  not  a 

man  to  do  anything  in  a  hurry,  and  Mr.  Shackell  will  in  all 


THEODORE  HOOK.  41 

probability,  or  Mrs.  Hook  herself,  have  broken  ground  for  you 
and  led  him  to  expect  some  application  on  your  part.  Your 
letter  will,  of  course,  produce  an  immediate  reply,  and  act,  I 
have  no  doubt,  as  a  preventive  against  any  movement  of  the 
kind  you  seem  to  anticipate  from  that  or  any  other  quarter. 
If  you  think  my  interference  would  be  of  the  slightest  use  af- 
terwards, I  would  either  write,  or,  what  would  be  I  think  a 

better  way  of  going  to  work,  see  B immediately  on  my 

return  ;  but  I  do  not  think  he  is  a  man  likely  to  yield  to  influ- 
ence of  any  kind  in  a  matter  of  this  sort.  Before  you  see  him 
you  should,  if  possible,  make  up  your  mind  as  to  whose  hands 
you  would  confide  the  task,  so  as  to  be  able  to  submit  the 
name  or  names,  if  you  like  to  give  him  a  choice  of  them,  to 
him,  for  depend  upon  it  this  is  a  question  he  would  be  sure  to 
ask.  If  you  decide  upon  Croker  there  can  be  no  question 
that  the  two  names  would. insure  a  very  large  sale  ;  and  Cro- 
ker's  regard  to  his  friend,  if,  in  order  to  keep  his  memory  out 
of  inefficient  or  injudicious  hands,  he  would  be  induced  to 
undertake  the  work  at  all,  would  insure  its  being  done  rather 
more  with  a  view  to  the  credit  of  Hook  himself  and  benefit  of 
his  children  than  to  personal  profit.  If  you  can't  get  Croker, 
what  think  you  of  Jerdan  ?  He  was  intimate  with  him  for  a 
great  number  of  years,  would  handle  the  subject  with  tact  and 
good-nature,  and  would  I  think  do  it  well.  It  should  certainly 
be  some  one  personally  acquainted  with  Hook's  humors  and 
peculiarities,  and  be  at  the  same  time  a  practiced  hand.  Of 
course  all  the  assistance  I  can  give  you  you  may  command, 
both  in  furnishing  you  with  what  matter  recollection  may  sup- 
ply, and  in  any  general  supervision,  as  in  the  Mathews  case, 
you  may  think  worth  having. 

"  We  have  had  a  good  collection  to-day  —  8/.  more  than  last 
year ;  the  church  much  crowded.     Remember  me  to  Roberts 

and  let  me  hear  from  you  as  to  B ,  and  the  result  of  your 

communication  with  him  ;  especially  let  me  know  the  day  of 
poor  Hook's  funeral  if  you  can  ascertain  it,  and  believe  me, 
as  ever,  most  truly  yours, 

"R.  H.  BARHAM." 


42  K1C1IARD  HARRIS  BARIIAU. 

"  It  was  on  the  29th  of  last  month  that  I  shook  poor  Hook's 
hand  for  the  last  time." 

To  Mrs.  Hughes. 

"MARGATE,  Sefttmbtri,  i<54i. 

'•  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  You  c'o  me  no  more  than  justice  in 
supposing  that  the  loss  of  my  poor  friend  would  indeed  cast  a 
gloom  over  me  ;  in  fact  it  came  upon  me  like  a  thunder-clap, 
and  I  even  yet  can  scarcely  believe  it  real.  On  Monday,  the 
29th  of  July,  I  went  down  to  Fulham,  and  spent  the  whole 
morning  with  him,  having  heard  that  he  was  out  of  sorts,  and 
wishing  to  see  him  before  I  came  down  here,  where  I  had 
promised  to  preach  a  sermon  for  the  benefit  of  "  The  Sea- 
bathing Infirmary."  That  (fay  month  was  the  day  of  his 
funeral  !  I  dreamt  of  no  such  thing  then,  for  though  I  could 
not  persuade  him  to  taste  even  the  fowl  which  we  had  for 
luncheon,  yet  his  spirits  were  so  high,  and  his  countenance 
wore  so  completely  its  usual  expression,  that  I  thought  him 
merely  laboring  under  one  of  those  attacks  of  bilious  indiges- 
tion, through  so  many  of  which  I  had  seen  him  fight  his  way, 
and  which  I  trusted  the  run  to  the  sea-side,  in  which  he  com- 
monly indulged  at  this  time  of  the  year,  would  entirely  re- 
move. 

"  I  was,  I  confess,  a  little  startled  when  he  told  me  that  he 
had  not  tasted  solid  food  for  three  days,  but  had  lived  upon 
effervescent  draughts,  of  gentian  or  columba,  taken  alternately 
with  rum  and  milk,  and  Guinness's  porter.  There  was  some- 
thing in  this  mixture  of  medicine,  food,  and  tonic,  with  the 
stimulants  which  I  knew  he  took  besides,  though  he  said 
nothing  about  them,  that  gave  me  some  apprehension  as  to 
whether  the  regimen  he  was  pursuing  was  a  right  one,  and  I 
pressed  him  strongly  to  have  further  advice  than  that  of  the 
apothecary  (an  old  friend  who  had  attended  him  for  many 
years),  and  not  to  risk  a  life  so  valuable  to  his  family,  as  well 
as  to  his  friends,  on  a  point  of  punctilious  delicacy.  He  prom- 
ised me  that  if  he  was  not  better  in  a  day  or  two,  he  would 
certainly  do  so. 


THEODORE  HOOK.  43 

"  He  went  on  to  speak  of  some  matters  of  business  con- 
nected with  the  novel  he  was  employed  on,  part  of  which  he 
read  to  me  ;  and  much,  my  dear  friend,  as  you,  in  common 
with  the  rest  of  the  world,  have  enjoyed  his  writings,  I  do 
assure  you  the  effect  of  his  humor  and  wit  was  more  than 
doubled,  when  the  effusions  of  his  own  genius  were  given 
from  his  own  mouth.  Never  was  he  in  better  cue,  and  his 
expressive  eye  reveled  in  its  own  fun.  I  shall  never  forget 
it! 

"  We  got  afterwards  on  miscellaneous  subjects,  and  then  he 
was  still  the  Theodore  Hook  I  had  always  known,  only  altered 
from  him  of  our  college  days  by  the  increased  fund  of  anec- 
dote which  experience  and  the  scenes  he  had  since  gone 
through  had  given  him.  There  was  the  same  good-nature 
which  was  one  of  the  most  distinguishing  characteristics  of 
his  mind  ;  indeed  it  has  so  happened  that,  intimate  as  has 
been  our  friendship  for  the  last  twenty  years,  since  his.  return 
from  the  Mauritius  renewed  the  connection  of  our  earlier 
days,  I  have  been  but  rarely  a  witness  to  that  bitter  and  cut- 
ting sarcasm  of  which  he  had  perfect  command,  and  could 
employ  without  scruple  when  provoked.  The  reason  of  this, 
perhaps,  may  be  that,  frequently  as  we  met,  it  was  either  in  a 
quiet  stroll  or  dinner  by  ourselves,  or  in  the  society  of  a  few 
intimate  friends,  all  of  whom  loved  and  regarded  each  other 
too  well  to  give  occasion  for  the  slightest  ebullition  of  temper. 
The  only  instances  I  can  call  to  mind  in  which  he  has  given 
way  to  any  severity  of  expression  have  ever  been  in  mixed 
company,  and  generally  (with  one  single  exception,  perhaps,  I 
might  say  universally),  when  undue  liberties,  taken  by  those 
whose  acquaintance  with  him  was  not  sufficient  to  justify  the 
familiarity,  drew  from  him  a  rebuff  which  seldom  make  a  sec- 
ond one  necessary.  His  friends  could  not  provoke  him. 

"  He  read  to  me  a  letter  from  his  son  in  India,  a  young  man 
not  yet  of  age,  written  with  much  of  the  peculiar  humor  of  his 
father,  combined  with  a  degree  of  good  feeling  and  affection 
amply  justifying  that  extreme  attachment  which  the  latter  had 
always  felt  for  him.  Never,  I  am  persuaded,  was  a  parent 


44  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

fonder  of  his  children,  and  the  way  in  which  he  now  spoke  to 
me  of  this  one  (for  whom  Majoribanks  had  about  a  year  ago 
procured  a  commission  in  India),  the  traits  he  mentioned  of 
his  character,  and  the  delight  with  which  he  dwelt  upon  them, 
were,  from  reasons  to  which  I  need  scarcely  allude,  calculated 
to  make  no  slight  impression  upon  his  auditor. 

"  After  more  than  three  hours  spent  in  a  tete-ei-tete,  I  got 
up  to  leave  him,  and  then,  for  the  first  time,  remarked  that  the 
dressing-gown  he  wore  seemed  to  sit  on  him  more  loosely 
than  usual ;  I  said,  as  I  shook  his  hand,  for  the  last  time,  — 

"  '  Why,  my  dear  Hook,  this  business  seems  to  have  pulled 
you  more  than  I  had  perceived.' 

" '  Pulled  me  ! '  said  he,  '  you  may  well  say  that ;  look  here,' 
and,  opening  his  gown,  it  was  not  without  a  degree  of  painful 
surprise,  that  I  saw  how  much  he  had  fallen  away,  and  that 
he  seemed  literally  almost  slipping  through  his  clothes,  a  cir- 
cumstance the  more  remarkable  from  the  usual  portliness  of 
his  figure. 

"  I  was  so  struck  with  his  change  of  appearance  that  I 
could  not  refrain  from  again  pressing  him  to  accompany  me 
for  a  few  days  down  here,  but  he  declined  it  as  being  impossi- 
ble, from  the  necessity  of  his  immediately  winding  up  '  Pere- 
grine Bunce  '  and  '  Fathers  and  Daughters  '  (the  novel  he  was 
publishing  in  monthly  parts  in  '  Colburn's  Magazine'),  but  he 
added,  that  in  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks  he  should  so  far  have 
'  broken  the  necks  of  them  both  '  as  to  admit  of  his  running 
down  to  Eastbourne,  where  he  said  '  he  could  be  quiet' 
Alas !  he  little  thought,  or  I,  how  quiet,  or  what  his  rest 
would  be  before  the  expiration  of  that  term  !  I  left  him,  but 
without  any  foreboding  that  it  was  for  the  last  time. 

"  The  first  intimation  I  had  of  his  danger  was  on  Tuesday 
the  24th  ult.  in  a  letter  from  my  son,  who  went  down  to  Ful- 
ham  to  call  on  him  on  the  Monday  ;  that  letter  stated  that,  to 
his  equal  surprise  and  grief,  the  answer  he  received  had  been 
that  Mr.  Hook  was  given  over  by  Dr.  Ferguson  who  had  been 
called  in  to  him  ;  that  mortification  had  taken  place,  was  rap- 
idly going  on,  and  that  a  few  hours  at  farthest  must  close  the 


S/X    WALTER  SCOTT.  45 

scene.  In  point  of  fact,  he  expired  about  half-past  four  that 
same  afternoon,  as  I  heard  from  Bentley  by  the  following 
post. 

"  It  was  well  for  my  engagement  with  the  latter  that  I  had 
a  few  days  before  sent  him  up  the  legend  I  had  promised  for 
the  month,  for,  feeling  apart,  the  confusion  of  intellect  I  was 
in  would  have  rendered  it  impossible  for  me  even  to  have 
looked  at  a  proof. 

"Mathews,  Frank  Bacon,  poor  Power,  Tom  Hill,  and 
James  Smith  —  and  now  Hook!  —  he  who  flung  his  life  and 
spirit  into  the  rest !  I  question  if  half  a  dozen  such  associates 
were  ever  removed,  or  such  a  party  broken  up  in  so  short  a 
time.  I  doubt  if  I  shall  have  the  courage  now  to  enter  the 
Garrick  Club  again.  Its  glory  has  indeed  departed  ! 

"  With  the  exact  state  of  poor  Hook's  circumstances  I  am 
not  fully  acquainted.  I  believe  he  has  left  no  tradesmen's 
bills  unpaid,  and  if  in  debt  at  all,  it  must  be  to  such  persons  as 
never  will  look  to  that  part  of  their  loss.  But  I  much  fear  he 
can  have  left  no  great  provision  for  Mrs.  Hook  or  his  children, 
of  whom  he  has  four  besides  the  young  man  in  India.  I  hope 
somebody  will  be  found  to  do  justice  to  his  memory.  Mr. 
Croker  would  be  the  man  of  all  others,  if  he  would  undertake 
the  task  ;  and  though  I  believe  it  has  been  neglected  of  late, 
yet  I  know  my  poor  friend  kept  a  diary,  which  I  have  seen,  of 
the  freaks  and  adventures  of  his  earlrer  years.  Much  of  this, 
I  dare  say,  has  been  anticipated  in  '  Gilbert  Gurney,'  and 
much,  perhaps  from  respect  to  living  persons,  could  not,  as 
yet  at  least,  be  given  to  the  public  ;  but  the  history  of  the 
Berners  Street  hoax,  and  some  other  transactions  I  could 
name,  will  one  day,  no  doubt,  raise  a  hearty  laugh  among 
those  who  come  after  us." 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT. 

"  November  26,  1826.  —  Dined  at  Doctor  Hughes's.  Sir  Wal- 
ter Scott  had  been  there  the  day  before  ;  and  the  Doctor  told 
me  the  following  anecdote,  which  he  had  just  heard  from  the 
'  Great  Unknown.'  A  Scottish  clergyman,  whose  name  was 


46  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

not  mentioned,  had  some  years  since  been  cited  before  the 
Ecclesiastical  Assembly  at  Edinburgh,  to  answer  to  a  charge 
brought  against  him  of  great  irreverence  in  religious  matters, 
and  Sir  Walter  was  employed  by  him  to  arrange  his  defense. 
The  principal  fact  alleged  against  him  was  his  having  asserted, 
in  a  letter  which  was  produced,  that  '  he  considered  Pontius 
Pilate  to  be  a  very  ill-used  man,  as  he  had  done  more  for 
Christianity  than  all  the  other  nine  apostles  put  together.'  The 
fact  was  proved,  and  suspension  followed." 

"November  20,  1828.  —  Carried  a  letter  addressed  by  Sir 
Walter  Scott  to  Mrs.  Hughes,  on  the  subject  of  a  benefit  for 
Mr.  Terry  the  actor,  lately  afflicted  with  a  paralytic  stroke,  to 
Stephen  Price  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre.  Prfce  promised  me  to 
let  him  have  a  benefit  at  the  proper  season,  if  he  wished  it ; 
Sir  Walter  undertaking  to  write  a  prologue  or  an  epilogue. 
Mrs.  H.,  in  a  conversation  respecting  the  '  Bride  of  Lammer- 
moor,'  told  me  that  she  had  been  informed  by  Sir  Walter,  when 
she  was  last  at  Abbottsford,  that  the  main  incidents  of  that 
story  were  true  ;  that  the  Lucy  of  the  tale  was  a  Miss  Dal- 
rymple  ;  Bucklaw,  who  marries  her,  was  Dunbar  of  Dunbar  ; 
and  her  lover,  Hamilton  of  Bungany,  who,  however,  survived 
her  many  years.  The  expression  used  by  Lucy,  '  So  ye  have 
taken  up  your  bonnie  bridegroom,'  is  historically  correct ;  as 
is  the  whole  circumstance  of  her  stabbing  her  new-made  hus- 
band, and  her  subsequent  insanity.  The  catastrophe  of  Ra- 
venswood's  being  overwhelmed  in  the  sand  is  founded  on  an 
occurrence  which  took  place  before  the  eyes  of  Sir  Walter's 
son,  Major  Scott,  who  saw  three  Irish  horsedealers  disappear 
in  the  manner  described.  A  similar  accident  is  said  to  have 
happened  to  the  son  of  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Trimmer. 

"  Meg  Dodds,  described  in  '  St.  Ronan's  Well,'  is  a  Mrs. 
Wilson,  who  keeps  the  inn  at  Fushie  Bridge,  the  first  stage 
from  Edinburgh  on  the  road  to  Abbotsford.  She  adores  Sir 
Walter,  and  when  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Hughes  were  detained  for  want 
of  horses,  finding  out  accidentally  that  they  were  friends  of 
his,  she  without  any  scruple  ordered  those  which  were  be- 
spoken for  a  gentleman,  then  on  his  way  to  dine  with  Lord 


SSX    WALTER  SCOTT.  47 

Melville,  to  be  put  to  their  carriage.  Mrs.  Wilson  is  a  strict 
Presbyterian,  and  once  complained  to  Sir  Walter  that  'though 
he  had  done  just  right  by  being  so  much  with  Arnieston  (Mr. 
Dundas  of  Arnieston),  yet  that  the  latter  had  greviously  of- 
fended her.  He  had  pit  up,'  she  said,  '  in  the  kirk  the  Lord's 
Prayer  and  the  Ten  Commandments,  and  when  a  remonstrance 
was  sent  to  him  against  such  idolatry,  he  just  answered,  that 
if  they  did  not  let  him  alone  he  would  e'en  pit  up  a  "  Belief  " 
into  the  bargain  !  '  " 

"  September,  1829.  —  Mrs.  Hughes  told  me  that  the  person 
whose  character  was  drawn  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  as  Jonathan 
Oldbuck  was  a  Mr.  Russell,  and  that  the  laird  whom  he  men- 
tions as  playing  cards  with  Andrew  Gemmell  (the  prototype 
of  Edie  Ochiltree)  through  the  window  was  Mr.  Scott  of  Yar- 
row. 

"  Snivelling  Stone,  about  two  miles  and  a  half  from  the 
cromlech  known  as  Wayland  Smith's  Cave,  in  Berkshire,  is 
a  large  stone,  which  it  is  said  that  Wayland,  having  ordered 
his  attendant  dwarf  to  go  on  an  errand,  and  observing  the  boy 
to  go  reluctantly,  kicked  after  him.  It  just  caught  his  heel, 
and  from  the  tears  which  ensued,  it  derived  its  traditionary  ap- 
pellation. It  is  singular  that  when  Mrs.  Hughes,  who  had 
this  story  from  a  servant,  a  native  of  that  part  of  the  country, 
first  told  it  to  Sir  Walter  Scott,  he  declared  that  he  had  never 
heard  of  Wayland's  having  had  any  attendant,  but  had  got  all 
the  materials  for  his  story,  so  far  as  that  worthy  is  concerned, 
from  Camden.  His  creation  of  Dicky  Sludge,  a  character  so 
near  the  traditionary  one  of  which  he  had  never  heard,  is  a 
curious  coincidence. 

"  So  also  is  his  description  of  Sir  Henry  Lee  and  the  dog 
in  "  Woodstock."  There  is  a  painting  in  the  possession  of  Mr. 
Townsend  of  Trevallyn,  in  Wales,  representing,  according  to 
a  tradition  long  preserved  in  his  family,  Sir  Henry  Lee  of 
Ditchley,  with  a  large  dog,  the  perfect  resemblance  of  Bevis. 
Mr.  Townsend,  however,  thinks  he  flourished  about  a  century 
earlier  than  the  Woodstock  hero,  and  was  the  same  with  the  Sir 
H.  Lee  whose  verses  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  on  his  retiring  from 


48  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAU. 

the  tilt  yard  in  consequence  of  old  age,  are  preserved  in  Wai- 
pole's  "  Antiquities."  The  strange  thing  is  that  Sir  Walter 
knew  nothing  of  this  picture  till  after  "  Woodstock  "  was  pub- 
lished. 

"Told  her  the  story  of  old  Steady  Baker,  the  Mayor  of 
Folkestone,  whom  I  well  remember.  A  boy  was  brought  before 
him  for  stealing  gooseberries.  Baker  turned  over  '  Burn's 
Justice,'  but  not  being  able  to  find  the  article  he  wanted  in 
the  book,  which  is  alphabetically  arranged,  he  lifted  up  his 
spectacles,  and  addressed  the  culprit  thus  :  '  My  lad,  it 's  very 
lucky  for  you  that  instead  of  stealing  gooseberries,  you  are 
not  brought  here  for  stealing  a  goose  ;  there  is  a  statute 
against  stealing  geese,  but  I  can't  find  anything  about  goose- 
berries in  all  "  Burn  ";  so  let  the  prisoner  be  discharged,  for  I 
suppose  it  is  no  offense.'  " 

"  October,  1831.  —  Sir  Walter  Scott  came  to  town  on  his  way 
to  Malta,  and  visited  Dr.  Hughes.  Is  much  sunk  in  spirits, 
and  told  the  doctor,  on  taking  leave,  that  '  he  saw  a  broken 
man  ! '  —  in  spirit,  of  course,  as  his  circumstancesare  now  re- 
viving. He  still,  however,  retains  gleams  of  his  former 
humor,  and  told  with  almost  his  usual  glee  the  story  of  a 
placed  minister,  near  Dundee,  who,  in  preaching  on  Jonah, 
said  :  '  Ken  ye,  brethren,  what  fish  it  was  that  swallowed 
him  ?  Aiblins  ye  may  think  it  was  a  shark  —  nae,  nae,  my 
brethren,  it  ways  nae  shark  ;  or  aiblins  ye  may  think  it  was  a 
saumon  —  nae,  nae,  my  brethren,  it  was  nae  saumon  ;  or  aib- 
lins ye  may  think  it  was  a  dolphin  —  nae,  nae,  my  brethren,  it 
was  nae  dolphin  '  — 

"  Here  an  old  woman,  thinking  to  help  her  pastor  out  of  a 
dead  lift,  cried  out,  '  Aiblins,  sir,  it  was  a  dunter  ! '  (the  vul- 
gar name  of  a  species  of  whale  common  to  the  Scotch  coast). 

" '  Aiblins,  madam,  ye  're  an  auld  witch  for  taking  the  word 
o'  God  out  of  my  mouth ! '  was  the  reply  of  the  disappointed 
rhetorician. 

"  Mr.  Lonsdale,  late  chaplain  to  the  Archbishop,  dined  there, 
and,  in  a  conversation  which  ensued,  mentioned  his  having,  in 
a  late  tour,  fallen  in  with  the  late  Dominie  Sampson.  This 


SfA    WALTER  SCOTT.  49 

gentleman  was  a  Mr.  Thompson,  the  son  of  the  placed  minis- 
ter of  Melrose,  and  himself  in  orders,  though  without  a  manse. 
He  had  lived  for  many  years  as  chaplain  in  Sir  Walter's  fam- 
ily, and  was  tutor  to  his  children,  who  used  to  take  advantage 
of  his  absence  of  mind  to  open  the  window  while  he  was  lect- 
uring, get  quietly  out  of  it  and  go  to  play,  a  circumstance  he 
would  rarely  perceive.  Sir  Walter  had  many  opportunities  of 
procuring  him  a  benefice,  but  never  dared  avail  himself  of 
them,  satisfied  that  his  absence  of  mind  would  only  bring  him 
into  scrapes  if  placed  in  a  responsible  situation.  Mr.  T.  was 
once  very  nearly  summoned  before  the  Synod  for  reading  the 
'Visitation  of  the  Sick'  service  from  our  Liturgy  to  a  poor 
man  confined  to  his  bed  by  illness." 

"July  3,  1833.  —  Visit  to  Mrs.  Hughes  at  Kingston,  Lisle. 
From  letters  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  it  appears  that  Lord  Webb 
Somerset,  brother  to  the  Duke  of  Beaufort,  was  the  author  of 
the  note  to  '  Rokeby  '  containing  the  legend  of  Littlecote  Hall, 
and  that  Miss  Hayman  furnished  him  with  the  ballad,  '  The 
spirit  of  the  blasted  tree  '  in  '  Marmion.' 

"  Dandie  Dinmont  was  one  Jamie  Davison,  who  lived  in 
Liddesdale,  and  died  in  September,  1823.  When  the  minister, 
who  had  paid  him  several  visits  during  his  illness,  called  for 
the  last  time  on  the  morning  of  his  death,  the  good  man  in- 
quired as  to  the  state  of  his  mind  :  — 

"  '  Eh  minister,  ye  're  vara  gude  and  Ise  muckle  obleeged  to 
ye  ;  eh,  sir,  it 's  a  great  mercy  that  I  sulde  be  able  to  look  out 
of  window  the  morn  and  get  a  sight  o'  the  hounds  ;  it 's  just 
a  mercy  they  sulde  rin  this  way.  'T  wad  ha'  bin  too  much 
for  a  puir  sinner  like  to  ha'  expeckit  a  sight  o'  the  tod  !  sae 
thank  the  Lord  for  a'  things  ! ' 

"  The  circumstances  attending  Tony  Foster's  death  as  de- 
scribed in  '  Kenilworth,'  are  taken  from  a  real  incident  re- 
corded in.  the  third  volume  of  the  Due  de  St.  Simon's  memoirs. 
There  an  account  is  given  of  the  death  of  an  avaricious  Master 
of  Requests  at  Lyons,  named  Pecoil,  who  had  contrived  a  re- 
cess within  his  cellar  closed  by  a  heavy  iron  door,  within  which 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  depositing  his  hoards.  By  some  means 
4 


5O  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM 

the  lock  at  last  got  hampered,  and  on  one  of  his  visits  he  was 
unable  to  let  himself  out  again.  He  was  eventually  discov- 
ered lying  on  his  treasures  dead,  and  having  previously  begun 
to  gnaw  one  of  his  arms. 

"  Mrs.  Hughes  repeated  several  anecdotes  which  she  had 
heard  from  the  mouth  of  Sir  Walter  himself ;  among  them  one 
of  Lady  Johnson,  sister  to  the  late  Earl  of  Buchan  and  Lord 
Erskine,  and  widow  of  Sir  J.  Johnson.  When  on  her  death- 
bed, a  few  hours  prior  to  her  dissolution,  she  had  her  notice 
attracted  by  the  violence  of  a  storm  which  was  raging  with 
great  fury  out  of  doors.  Motioning  with  her  hand  to  have  the 
curtains  thrown  open,  she  looked  earnestly  at  the  window 
through  which  the  lightning  was  flashing  very  vividly,  and 
exclaimed  to  her  attendants  :  '  Gude  faith,  but  it 's  an  unco 
awfu'  night  for  me  to  gang  bleezing  through  the  lift ! ' 

"  Another  story  told  by  Sir  Walter  was  of  a  drunken  old 
laird  who  fell  off  his  pony  into  the  water  while  crossing  a  ford 
in  Ettrick. 

" '  Eh,  Jock,'  he  cried  to  his  man,  '  there  's  some  puir  body 
fa'en  into  the  water  ;  I  heard  a  splash  ;  who  is  it,  man  ? ' 

" '  Troth,  laird,  I  canna  tell ;  forbye  it 's  no  yersell,'  said 
John,  dragging  him  to  the  bank.  The  laird's  wig  meantime 
had  fallen  off  into  the  stream,  and  John  in  putting  it  on  again 
had  placed  it  inside  out.  This,  and  its  being  thoroughly 
soaked,  annoyed  the  old  gentleman,  who  refused  to  wear 
it:  — 

"  '  Deil  ha'  my  saul,  it 's  nae  my  ain  wig  ;  what  for  do  \T  no 
get  me  my  ain  wig,  ye  ne'er-do-weel  ?  ' 

"'  Eh,  then,  laird,  ye  '11  no  get  ony  ither  wig  the  night,  sae 
e'en  pit  it  on  again.  There  's  nae  sic  a  wale  of  wigs  in  the 
burnie  I  jalouse.' 

"  Another  of  his  stories  was  of  a  party  of  Highland  gentle- 
men who  continued  drinking  three  whole  days  and  nights  suc- 
cessively, without  intermission  :  — 

"  '  Hech,  sirs,'  cried  one  at  last, '  but  McKinnon  looks  gash  ! ' 

"  '  What  for  should  he  no,'  returned  his  neighbor,  '  has  na 
the  chiel  been  dead  these  twa  hoors  ? ' 


S/K    WALTER  SCOTT.  51 

'' '  Dead  ! '  repeated  his  friend,  '  an  ye  did  na'  tell  us  be- 
fore !  ' 

" '  Hoot,  man,'  was  the  answer,  '  what  for  should  I  ha' 
spoiled  gude  company  for  sic  a  puir  bit  bodie  as  yon  ?  ' ' 

Sir  Walter  Scott  declared  to  Mrs.  Hughes  that,  many  years 
before  the  event  took  place,  he  had  heard  of  a  prophecy  in  the 
Seaforth  family,  uttered,  or  said  to  have  been  uttered  by  a 
second-sighted  clansman  more  than  a  century  before,  to  the 
effect  that  "  when  the  Chisholm  and  the  Fraser  should  be 
baith  deaf,  and  the  M'Pherson  (?  M'Kenzie)  born  with  a  buck 
tooth,  the  male  line  of  the  Fraser  should  become  extinct,  and 
that  a  white-hooded  lassie  should  come  from  ayont  the  sea  and 
inherit  a'."  All  these  contingencies  happened  in  the  late  Lord 
Seaforth's  time,  who,  on  reverting  to  the  prophecy,  showed 
two  fine  lads,  his  sons,  to  Sir  Walter,  and  observed,  "  After 
all 's  said  and  done,  I  think  these  boys  will  ding  the  prophet 
after  all."  He  was  wrong,  however.  The  two  boys  died  im- 
mediately before  their  father,  and  the  present  Lady  Hood,  a 
widow,  came  from  India  after  his  decease  and  inherited  the 
property. 

The  prophecy  is  said  to  have  included  yet  another  family 
misfortune,  and  to  have  foretold  that  the  white-hooded  lassie 
(the  widow's  cap  is  clearly  alluded  to  in  the  epithet)  should 
cause  the  death  of  her  own  sister.  This  also  came  to  pass. 
By  the  upset  of  a  pony  carriage  which  Mrs.  Stuart  M'Kenzie 
(as  Lady  Hood  had  become  by  marriage)  was  driving,  her 
sister  was  instantaneously  killed  on  the  spot,  and  she  herself 
so  fearfully  injured  about  the  face  as  to  be  compelled  to  wear, 
for  the  remainder  of  her  life,  a  head-dress  of  a  fashion  which 
enabled  her  to  conceal  the  greater  part  of  her  countenance 
under  bands  of  black  velvet. 

"  Sir  Walter  Scott,"  Mr.  Barham  goes  on  to  say,  "  gave 
Mrs.  Hughes  an  account  of  his  visit  to  Warrender  House,  the 
seat  of  Sir  George  Warrender,  at  Burntfields,  near  Edinburgh. 
He  stated  that  on  an  architect  being  called  in  to  make  some 
repairs  there  on  a  large  scale,  he  could  not  make  the  ground 
plan  agree  with  the  interior  measurement  of  the  edifice.  After 


52  RICHARD  HARRIS  BAR  HAM. 

much  discussion  he  found  an  old  doorway,  which  the  servants 
assured  him  was  a  false  one  and  '  led  nowhere.'  Recurring 
in  his  plan,  however,  he  suspected  that  the  deficient  quantity 
must  be  in  its  vicinity,  and  accordingly,  determined  to  have  it 
opened.  It  was  strongly  fastened,  but  was  at  length  removed, 
when  behind  it  he  found  three  small  rooms,  the-farthest  one 
fitted  up  as  a  bed-room,  with  two  silver  candlesticks  on  the 
toilet  table,  the  candles  burnt  down  in  the  sockets.  Hali- 
burnt  embers  were  on  the  hearth  ;  and  an  old-fashioned  but 
very  handsome  dressing-gown  was  hanging  over  the  back  of  a 
chair  at  the  foot  of  which  was  a  pair  of  slippers.  The  bed  ap- 
peared to  have  been  left  disarranged  as  when  quitted  by  its 
last  occupant.  Not  any  of  the  family  then  living  were  aware 
of  the  existence  of  these  rooms,  nor  was  there  any  tradition  as 
to  the  name  or  character  of  their  inmates.  It  was  also  said  by 
Sir  George,  at  the  same  time,  that  'he  had  been  assured  by 
members  of  the  family  that  at  Glamis  Castle  there  was  a  se- 
cret room,  the  mode  of  approaching  which  was  never  known 
to  more  than  the  possessor  and  the  heir  apparent  of  the  prop- 
erty." 

CHARLES  DIGGLE. 

Of  Diggle  Mr.  Barham  used  to  tell  many  absurd  stories  : 
how,  for  instance,  he  used  to  steal  the  shoe-strings  of  Isaac 
Hill,  the  second  master,  and  avowed  his  intention  of  continu- 
ing the  robbery  till  he  got  enough  to  form  a  line  that  would 
reach  from  one  end  of  the  school  to  the  other  (seventy  feet), 
but  was  unluckily  removed  from  school  before  he  had  half  ac- 
complished his  task.  The  most  amusing,  however  much  to  be 
condemned,  of  his  practical  jokes  was  one  in  which  his  friend 
Barham  also  had  a  share.  The  two  boys  having,  in  the  course  of 
one  of  their  walks,  discovered  a  Quakers'  meeting-house,  forth- 
with procured  a  penny  tart  of  a  neighboring  pastry-cook  ; 
furnished  with  this,  Diggle  marched  boldly  into  the  building, 
and  holding  up  the  delicacy  in  the  midst  of  the  grave  assembly, 
said  with  perfect  solemnity,  — 

"  Whoever  speaks  first  shall  have  this  pie." 

"  Friend,  go  thy  way,"  commenced  a  drab-colored  gentle- 
man, rising  ;  "  go  thy  way  and  " — 


BARHAM'S  COLLEGE   LIFE.  53 

"  The  pie  's  yours,  sir  !  "  exclaimed  Master  Diggle  politely 
and  placing  it  before  the  astounded  speaker  hastily  effected 
his  escape. 

BARHAM'S  COLLEGE  LIFE. 

College  life,  more  especially  at  that  day,  was  likely  to  pre- 
sent numerous  and  sore  temptations  to  one  who  was  overflow- 
ing with  good-nature  and  high  spirits,  and  whose  early  loss 
had  not  only  placed  a  perilous  abundance  of  funds  at  his  dis- 
posal, but  had  left  him,  as  it  happened,  utterly  unchecked  by 
parental  counsel  and  authority,  for  his  mother,  a  confirmed 
invalid,  had  for  some  time  been  incapable  of  exercising  any 
control  over  his  conduct.  Of  his  guardians,  on  the  other  hand, 
but  one  busied  himself  at  all  in  his  affairs  ;  and  of  him,  the 
attorney  before  alluded  to,  the  youth  had  come  to  conceive  a 
strong  dislike,  a  feeling  not  unmixed  with  suspicion,  which 
proved  but  too  well  founded,  of  the  man's  honesty.  It  was 
scarcely  to  be  expected  that  such  an  ordeal  should  be  passed 
through  without  scathe.  Brasenose,  too,  was  an  expensive 
college  :  it  was  commonly  reported  that  the  Principal  "  hated 
a  college  of  paupers,"  and  the  young  men  were  ready  enough 
in  this  respect  to  follow  the  cue  which  they  believed  had  been 
given.  Mr.  Barham,  like  many  others,  spent  there  a  great  deal 
of  money  to  very  little  purpose.  Among  other  extravagances 
gaming  was  the  fashion  there  as  elsewhere.  Whether,  indeed, 
college  "  hells  "  were  in  existence  at  that  time,  as  they  cer- 
tainly were  a  generation  later,  I  am  not  able  to  say,  but  a  good 
deal  of  high  play  went  on,  and  although  this  was  certainly  a 
vice  to  which  my  father  had  no  natural  inclination,  he  was  on 
one  occasion  induced  to  join  a  party  at  "unlimited  loo."  or 
something  of  the  sort,  and  with  the  happiest  result  —  he  lost 
heavily  ;  a  great  deal  more,  that  is  to  say,  than  he  was  in  a 
condition  to  pay.  Direct  communication  on  such  a  subject 
with  the  lawyer  at  Canterbury  was  on  many  accounts  extremely 
distasteful.  A  lecture  from  him  would  have  proved  particu- 
larly galling  ;  there  was  nothing  for  it,  therefore,  but  to  apply 
to  Lord  Rokeby,  and  this  Mr.  Barham  did,  earnestly  begging 


54  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

him  to  authorize  the  advance  of  a  sum,  from  the  property  in 
trust,  sufficient  to  discharge  the  obligation.  Lord  Rokeby  very 
decidedly,  and  it  need  hardly  be  said  very  properly,  declined 
to  accede,  to  the  request.  As  a  guardian,  he  said,  he  could 
not  for  a  moment  entertain  the  question,  but  he  very  good- 
naturedly  added,  that  as  a  friend  he  would  give  the  money. 
The  present  showed  tact  as  well  as  kindness,  and  clearly  ren- 
dered any  second  application  of  the  sort  impossible.  And  it 
is  a  fact  that,  from  that  day  to  his  last,  Mr.  Barham  held  en- 
tirely aloof,  not  only  from  gambling  in  the  ordinary  sense  of 
the  word,  but  from  speculation  of  every  kind  and  degree.  A 
railway  investment  he  looked  upon  as  a  certain  step  towards 
utter  ruin ;  and  when  one  of  the  most  accomplished  of  pro- 
jectors, a  gentleman  who  had  succeeded  in  getting  some  very, 
pretty  sport,  especially  among  the  clergy,  called  on  him  with 
the  prospectus  of  a  certain  Cornish  mining  company,  and 
tried  hard  to  persuade  him  to  join  with  many  of  his  brethren 
in  the  adventure,  his  habitual  distrust  was  not  to  be  overcome  : 
"  Tell  me  candidly,"  asked  he,  "  all  exaggeration  apart,  what 
dividend  do  you  really  calculate  will  be  paid  ? " 

"  Not  one  farthing  short  of  twenty  per  cent. ! " 

"  You  are  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  in  earnest,  on  my  honor." 

"  Thank  you  —  that  is  rather  too  good  a  thing  for  me  to 
meddle  with.  I  wish  you  all  possible  success,  and  —  a  very 
good  morning  !  "  and  he  buttoned  up  his  pocket,  bowed  out  his 
friend,  and  could  never  be  persuaded  to  resume  the  negotia- 
tion. Those  who  persisted  in  the  scheme  —  two  of  his  inti- 
mate friends  among  the  number  —  were  ruined,  or  nearly 
ruined,  by  its  collapse. 

His  reply  to  Mr.  Hodson,  his  tutor,  afterwards  Principal  of 
Brasenose,  will  convey  some  notion  of  the  hours  he  was  wont 
to  keep.  This  gentleman,  who,  doubtless  discerning,  spite  of 
an  apparent  levity,  much  that  was  amiable  and  high-minded  in 
his  pupil,  treated  him  with  marked  indulgence,  sent  for  him  on 
one  occasion  to  demand  an  explanation  of  his  continued  ab- 
sence from  morning  chapel. 


ANECDOTE  OF  HARLEY  THE  COMEDIAN.        55 

"  The  fact  is,  sir,"  urged  his  pupil,  "  you  are  too  late  for 
me." 

"  Too  late  ?  "  repeated  the  tutor,  in  astonishment. 

"Yes,  sir  —  too  late.  I  cannot  sit  up  till  seven  o'clock  in 
the  morning  :  I  am  a  man  of  regular  habits  ;  and  unless  I 
get  to  bed  by  four  or  five  at  latest,  I  am  really  fit  for  nothing 
next  day." 

An  impertinence  better  rebuked  by  the  look  of  dignified 
displeasure  which  it  called  up,  than  by  any  amount  of  punish- 
ment that  could  have  been  inflicted.  All  affectation  was  cast 
aside  on  the  instant  —  an  apology  sincerely  offered,  and  silently 
accepted. 

ANECDOTE  OF  HARLEY  THE  COMEDIAN. 

The  Whig  Club  patronized  the  drama,  which  was  then  rep- 
resented at  Canterbury  by  a  travelling  company  under  the 
management  of  a  certain  Mrs.  Baker.  The  principal  light 
comedian  was  a  youth  as  yet  "  to  fortune  and  to  fame  un- 
known," but  destined  ere  long  to  win  the  smiles  of  both  —  no 
other  than  the  late  popular  favorite,  Mr.  Harley.  He  often 
used  to  tell  how  he  was  extricated  from  one  of  his  early  pro- 
fessional difficulties  by  the  aid,  good-naturedly  offered,  of 
my  father.  Harley  had  been  cast  for  the  part  of  Goldfinch 
in  "  The  Road  to  Ruin,"  but  the  resources  of  the  establishment 
were  limited,  and  the  wardrobe  afforded  no  dress  better  suited  to 
the  character  than  an  old  tarnished  lace  frock  of  Macheath's, 
with  a  pair  of  jack-boots  to  match  —  the  whole  much  too  large 
for  the  figure  of  the  young  actor.  There  was  no  time  — to  say 
nothing  of  money  —  to  provide  a  more  appropriate  costume, 
and  in  his  embarrassment  he  consulted  Mr.  Barham,  who  was 
a  constant  visitor  both  before  and  behind  the  curtain.  The 
latter  settled  the  matter  at  once  by  presenting  him  with  a  com- 
plete suit  of  his  own.  It  consisted  of  a  green  single-breasted 
coat  with  gilt  buttons,  a  crimson  waistcoat,  edges  and  pockets 
trimmed  with  fur,  buff  buckskin  breeches,  top-boots,  and  silver 
spurs  !  Harley  was  delighted,  so  it  is  to  be  hoped  was  the  au- 
dience ;  assuredly  a  more  complete  buck  of  the  period  was  never 
before  presented  to  their  notice. 


56  RICHARD  HARRIS  XARHAM. 

WITCHCRAFT. 

Among  my  father's  memoranda  I  find  an  account,  abridged 
from  Scott's  curious  work,  of  a  case  of  witchcraft  which  oc- 
curred at  the  village  of  Westwell  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth, 
and  which  was  professionally  treated  with  marked  success  by 
the  minister  of  the  parish  :  — 

"  I  will  begin  with  a  true  story  of  a  witch  practicing  her  dia- 
bolical witchcraft  and  ventriloquie  anno  1574,  at  Westwell,  in 
Kent,  within  six  miles  of  where  I  dwell,  taken  and  noted  down 
by  two  ministers  of  God's  Word,  four  substantial  yeomen,  and 
three  women  of  good  fame  and  reputation,  whose  names  are 
after- written.  —  October  13.  Mildred,  the  base  daughter  of 
Alice  Norrington,  and  now  servant  to  Will.  Spooner,  of  West- 
well  Co.  Kent,  being  of  the  age  of  seventeen  years,  was  pos- 
sessed with  Satan  in  the  day  and  night  aforesaid.  About  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  there  came  to  the  said 
Spooner's  house  Roger  Newman,  minister  of  Westwell,  John 
Brainford,  minister  of  Kinington,  with  others  whose  names 
are  unwritten,  who  made  their  prayer  to  God  to  assist  them 
in  that  needful  case,  and  then  commanded  Satan  in  the  name 
of  the  Holy  Trinity  to  speak  with  such  a  voice  as  they  might 
understand,  and  to  declare  from  whence  he  came." 

At  first  the  dqvil  proved  refractory,  but  the  exercisers  insist- 
ing, he  confessed  that  he  had  been  sent  to  the  girl  by  "old 
Alice,"  who,  among  other  things,  had  moved  him  to  kill  three 
persons,  Edward  Agar,  a  gentleman  of  forty  pounds  by  the 
year,  his  child,  and  Wolton's  wife  ;  and  that  finally  he  was 
commissioned  by  the  said  "  old  Alice  "  to  kill  the  possessed. 
The  devil  being  exorcised  and  driven  out,  an  account  was 
drawn  up,  signed,  and  testified  as  aforesaid.  Eventually  the 
girl  was  arrested  as  an  impostor,  confessed  her  crime,  and 
received  "condigne  punishment." 

According  to  Scott  the  trick  was  managed  by  means  of  ven- 
triloquism. The  Holy  Maid  of  Kent  is  also  said  by  him  to  have 
practiced  the  same  art. 

A  second  extract  from  the  same  volume  (p.  61  of  the  edition 
of  1654)  runs  as  follows  :  — 


BARffAM  AMONG  SMUGGLERS.  57 

"  I  remember  another  story  written  in  '  Malleus  Malefi- 
carmn,'  repeated  by  Bodmin,  that  one  soldier  called  Punker 
daily  throughout  witchcraft  killed  with  his  bowe  and  arrows 
three  of  the  enemies  as  they  stood  peeping  over  the  walls  of  a 
castle  besieged,  so  as  in  the  end  he  killed  them  all  quite,  saving 
one.  The  triall  of  the  archer's  sinister  dealing  and  a  proof 
thereof  expressed  is  for  that  he  never  lightly  failed  when  he 
shot,  and  for  that  he  killed  them  by  three  a  day,  and  had  shot 
three  arrows  into  a  rod.  This  was  he  that  shot  at  a.  peny  on 
his  sonnes  head  and  made  ready  another  arrow  to  have 
slaine  the  Duke  that  commanded  it."  l 

Query,  origin  of  William  Tell  ? 

BARHAM  AMONG  SMUGGLERS. 

The  villages  which  formed  his  new  cure  (Warehorn)  were 
about  two  miles  apart  and  situated,  the  former  in,  the  latter 
on  the  verge  of,  Rommey  Marsh  ;  and,  as  may  be  supposed, 
they  abounded,  even  more  than  the  spot  he  had  just  quitted 
in  desperadoes  engaged  in  what,  by  a  technical  euphemism, 
was  termed  "  The  Free  Trade." 

But,  notwithstanding  the  reckless  character  of  these  men, 
the  rector  met  with  nothing  of  outrage  or  incivility  at  their 
hands.  Many  a  time  indeed,  on  returning  homewards  late  at 
night,  has  he  been  challenged  by  a  half  seen  horseman  who 
looked  in  the  heavy  gloom  like  some  misty  condensation  a  little 
more  substantial  than  ordinary  fog,  but  on  making  known  his 
name  and  office,  he  was  invariably  allowed  to  pass  on  with  a 
"  Good-night,  it 's  only  parson  !  "  while  a  long  and  shadowy  line 
of  mounted  smugglers,  each  with  his  led  horse  laden  with  tubs, 
filed  silently  by.  Nay,  they  even  extended  their  familiarity  so 
far  as  to  make  the  church  itself  a  depot  for  contraband  goods  ; 
and  on  one  occasion  a  large  seizure  of  tobacco  had  been  made 
in  the  Snargate  belfry  —  calumny  contended  for  the  discovery 
of  a  keg  of  hollands  under  the  vestry-table.  When  it  is  added, 
that  the  nightly  wages,  paid  whether  a  cargo  was  run  or  not, 
were  at  the  raf.e  of  seven  and  sixpence  to  an  unarmed  man, 

1  Scott's  Discovery  of  Witchcraft,  book  vii. 


58  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

and  fifteen  shillings  to  one  who  carried  his  cutlass  and  pis- 
tols, little  surprise  can  be  felt  if  nearly  the  whole  population 
pursued  more  or  less  so  profitable  an  avocation. 

The  district,  moreover,  appears  up  to  a  late  period  to  have 
been  utterly  neglected  in  point  of  religious  instruction  and 
superintendence.  It  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  last 
strongholds  of  the  Trullibers.  Will  it  be  credited  that  in  the 
nineteenth  century  one  of  the  reverend  gentlemen  in  question 
has  been  known  on  a  Sabbath-day  to  cart  a  load  of  bricks,  in 
proprid  persond,  to  the  church-yard,  for  the  purpose  of  repair- 
ing the  chancel  ?  Such  was  the  fact. 

Indeed,  it  was  this  gentleman's  ordinary  custom,  living  as 
he  did  at  some  distance  from  his  cure,  to  drive  over  on  a 
Sunday  at  any  hour  which  might  happen  to  be  most  conven- 
ient, and,  having  put  up  his  horse  and  gig,  to  enter  the  public- 
house  parlor  and  there  sit  down  to  discuss  the  state  of  the 
markets  over  a  glass  of  toddy  and  a  pipe  with  the  landlord, 
who  was  parish  clerk  as  well,  together  with  any  neighbors 
who  might  happen  to  drop  in.  Meanwhile  a  lad  was  dis- 
patched to  ring  the  bell,  and  by  the  time  the  rest  of  the  con- 
gregation had  assembled,  the  rector  and  his  company  were 
usually  ready  to  repair  to  the  church,  where,  after  a  fashion, 

divine  service  was  performed.  But  one  blunder  Mr. 

unfortunately  committed  —  he  outlived  his  age.  Old  friends 
died  off,  new  parishioners  intruded,  a  stricter  discipline  was  on 
all  sides  growing  up;  and  one  day  before  the  cheering  — 
would  that  we  could  say  not  inebriating  —  glass  was  emptied, 
or  the  fragrant  "  screw  "  half  consumed,  the  bell  suddenly  and 
unexpectedly  stopped  !  What  could  it  mean  ?  off  started 
clerk  and  clergyman,  indignant  at  the  interruption,  to  ascertain 
its  cause,  and  discovered  to  their  consternation  a  stranger  in 
the  reading  desk.  It  was  the  Rural  Dean  !  What  steps  were 
subsequently  taken  I  do  not  remember  to  have  heard,  but  they 

were  such  as  to  relieve  Mr. of  the  necessity  of  hurrying 

over  his  Sunday  morning's  refreshment  for  the  future. 

It  is  recorded  of  the  same  individual  that  even  during  di- 
vine service  it  was  not  unfrequent  for  him  to  mingle  secular 


A  CASE  OF  MONOMANIA.  59 

matters  with  divine,  in  a  manner  no  less  ludicrous  than  inde- 
corous —  leaning,  for  example,  over  his  churchwarden's  pew  as 
he  passed  from  the  reading  desk  to  the  pulpit,  and  observing, 
as  the  result  of  long  and  recently  concluded  deliberation, 
"  Well,  Smithers,  I  '11  have  that  pig." 

A  CASE  OF  MONOMANIA. 

I  may  here  introduce  a  somewhat  singular  occurrence  which 
took  place  at  the  residence  of  another  clergyman  in  this 
neighborhood  ;  one,  however,  it  is  to  be  observed,  in  every  re- 
spect the  opposite  of  the  gentleman  just  mentioned.  He  had 
lost  a  beloved  daughter,  under  circumstances  peculiarly  affect- 
ing. She  was  playing  in  the  garden  in  high  spirits  and  ap- 
parent health,  when  suddenly  approaching  her  father  she 
looked  up  in  his  face,  and  saying,  "  Father,  take  care  of  my 
fowls  !  "  without  another  word  laid  her  head  upon  his  knees 
and  died.  The  blow  was  stunning,  and  Mr. never  en- 
tirely recovered  from  its  effects.  For  some  months  his  reason 
was  despaired  of,  and  though  afterwards  restored  to  cope  in 
full  vigor  with  ordinary  subjects,  it  sank  into  monomania  on 
the  mention  of  one  —  his  daughter  ! 

A  belief  took  full  possession  of  his  mind  that  he  was  con- 
stantly subject  to  the  visits  of  his  lost  child ;  he  intimated, 
moreover,  that  the  spirit  spoke  of  poison  having  been  ad- 
ministered,  and  urgently  pressed  upon  him  the  avenging  of 
the  murder.  In  the  earlier  stages  of  the  disease,  his  friends 
entertained  hopes  of  reasoning  or  rallying  him  out  of  so  dis- 
tressing a  delusion.  Mr.  Barham,  among  the  rest,  being 
present  at  his  table,  took  an  opportunity  of  addressing  to  him 
some  skeptical  remarks  on  the  theory  of  apparitions. 

•'  I  sincerely  hope,  sir,"  replied  his  host,  "  you  may  never 
have  occasion  to  change  your  opinion  ;  but,  unless  I  greatly 
err,  your  unbelief  will  meet  with  a  manifest  check  in  the 
course  of  this  very  night." 

The  words  had  scarcely  passed  his  lips,  when  the  party  was 
startled  by  a  loud  noise,  as  of  a  falling  body,  proceeding  from 
the  hall.  Mr. looked  round  with  an  air  of  calm  triumph, 


60  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

while  his  guest,  not  altogether  convinced  that  the  interruption 
was  necessarily  to  be  attributed  to  spiritual  agency,  opened 
the  door  to  ascertain  its  cause.  He  returned  with  his  own 
hat  which  had  been  dislodged,  probably  by  the  wind  which 
happened  to  be  unusually  high,  from  the  wall. 

"  You  see,  gentlemen,  I  am  no  false  prophet,"  said  the  host 
quietly. 

"Well,"  urged  Mr.  Barham,  half  annoyed  at  the  aptitude  of 
the  accident,  "  if  that  be  the  handiwork  of  your  familiar,  I 
should  take  it  as  a  favor  if  you  would  represent  to  him  or 
her,  as  the  case  may  be,  that,  as  the  hat  happens  to  be  my 
best"-  "  Oh  !  "  interrupted  the  seer,  "if  you  are  still  dis- 
posed to  treat  the  matter  with  levity,  we  will  drop  it  at  once." 
Dropped  accordingly  it  was,  leaving  the  unfortunate  gentle- 
man more  confirmed  than  ever  in  his  visionary  creed. 

A  POETICAL  INVITATION. 

Of  the  many  amusing  trifles  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
addressing  to  his  friends,  one  of  the  best,  perhaps,  is  an  invita- 
tion to  Dr.  Wilmot  of  Ashford,  conveyed  under  the  form  of  a 
parody  on  "  O  Nanny,  wilt  thou  gang  with  me  ?  " 

"  O  Doctor  !  wilt  thou  dine  with  me, 

And  drive  on  Tuesday  morning  down? 
Can  ribs  of  beef  have  charms  for  thee  — 

The  fat,  the  lean,  the  luscious  brown  ? 
No  longer  dressed  in  silken  sheen, 

Nor  decked  with  rings  and  brooches  rare, 
Say,  wilt  thou  come  in  velveteen, 

Or  corduroys  that  never  tear  ? 

"  O  Doctor  I  when  thou  com 'st  away, 

Wilt  thou  not  bid  John  ride  behind, 
On  pony,  clad  in  livery  K*vi 

To  mark  the  birds  our  pointers  find? 
I>et  him  a  flank  of  darkest  green 

Replete  with  cherry  brandy  bear, 
That  we  may  still,  our  toil*  between, 
That  fascinating  fluid  share ! 

"  O  Doctor !  canst  thou  aim  so  true, 

As  we  through  briars  and  bramble*  go, 
To  reach  the  partridge  brown  of  hue, 
And  lay  the  mounting  pheasant  low  ? 


RUSTIC  SIMPLICITY.  6l 

Or  should,  by  chance,  it  so  befall 

Thy  path  be  crossed  by  timid  hare, 
Say,  wilt  thou  for  the  game-bag  call, 

And  place  the  fur-clad  victim  there  ? 

"And  when  at  last  the  dark'ning  sky 

Proclaims  the  hour  of  dinner  near, 
Wilt  thou  repress  each  struggling  sigh, 

And  quit  thy  sport  for  homely  cheer? 
The  cloth  withdrawn,  removed  the  tray  — 

Say,  wilt  thou,  snug  in  elbow-chair, 
The  bottle's  progress  scorn  to  stay, 

But  fill,  the  fairest  of  the  fair  ? " 

THE  FATE  OF  A  HARE. 

Some  similar  lines  were  dispatched  to  the  great  man  of  the 
neighborhood,  "  Squire  "  Hodges,  who  hunted  the  Marsh  coun- 
try with  a  scratch  pack  of  beagles,  and  had  happened  to  lose 
his  hare  in  the  Rectors  cabbage-garden  :  — 

BENEVOLENCE. 

"  The  lark  sings  loud,  't  is  early  morn, 

These  woodland  scenes  among, 
The  deep-toned  pack  and  echoing  horn 
Their  jovial  notes  prolong. 

"  And  see  poor  puss,  with  shortened  bseath, 

Splashed  sides,  and  weary  feet, 
In  terror  views  approaching  death, 
And  crouches  at  my  feet ! 

"  Her  strength  is  gone,  her  spirits  fail, 

Nor  farther  can  she  fly  ; 
The  hounds  snuff  up  the  tainted  gale, 
And  nearer  sounds  the  cry. 

"  Poor  helpless  wretch !  methinks  I  view 

Thee  sink  beneath  their  power ! 
Methinks  I  see  the  ruffian  crew 
Thy  tender  limbs  devour! 

• 
"  Yet  oh  I  in  vain  thy  foes  shall  come : 

So  cheer  thee,  trembling  elf ! 
These  guardian  arms  shall  bear  thee  home  — 
'  I  '11  eat  thee  up  myself!'' 


62  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

RUSTIC  SIMPLICITY. 

A  genuine  and  touching  instance  of  simplicity  is  noted  down 
by  my  father  as  having  been  told  to  him  by  Mr.  Baber  of  the 
British  Museum. 

"A  short  time  after  Mr.  Baber,  who  succeeded  Mr.  Beloe 
at  the  British  Museum,  had  entered  upon  his  office  as  one  of 
the  keepers,  he  attended  a  party  from  the  west  of  England 
over  the  building,  and  explained,  in  his  official  capacity,  many 
of  the  curiosities  which  it  contains.  In  one  of  the  rooms  he 
pointed  out  to  their  observation  a  collection  of  beautiful  an- 
tique vases,  all  of  which,  he  informed  them,  had  been  dug  up 
at  Herculaneum.  One  of  the  party  echoed  his  words  with  the 
greatest  astonishment. 

"  '  Yes,  sir,  dug  up,  sir  ?  ' 

"  '  What,  out  of  the  ground  ?  ' 

" '  Undoubtedly.' 

"  '  What,  just  as  they  now  are  ? ' 

" '  Perhaps  some  little  pains  may  have  been  taken  in  clean- 
ing them,  but  in  all  other  respects  they  were  found  just  as  you 
see  them.'  The  Somersetshire  sage  turning  to  one  of  his 
companions  with  a  most  incredulous  shake  of  the  head  assured 
him  in  an  audible  whisper,  — 

"  *  He  may  say  what  he  likes,  but  he  shall  never  per- 
suade me  that  they  ever  dug  up  ready-made  pots  out  of  the 
ground  ? ' " 

ANECDOTE  OF  LORD  ELDON. 

Diary:  June  l,  1822.  —  Anecdote  of  Lord  Chancellor  Eldon 
narrated  to  me  by  Dr.  Blomberg. 

"  The  Chancellor  is  very  fond  of  shooting,  and  usually  re- 
tires into  the  country  for  six  weeks  towards  the  end  of  the 
season,  where  he  is  in  the  habit  of  riding  a  little  Welsh  pony, 
for  which  he  gave  fifty  shillings.  One  morning  last  year  his 
lordship  intending  to  enjoy  a  few  hours'  sport  after  a  rainy 
night,  ordered  'Bob,' the  pony,  to  be  saddled.  Lady  Kl<!..n 
told  him  he  could  not  have  it,  but  company  being  in  the  room 
gave  no  reason.  In  a  few  minutes,  however,  the  servant 
opened  the  door  and  announced  that  '  Bob '  was  ready. 


THE  B LOME  ERG   GHOST  STORY.  63 

"  '  Why,  bless  me  ! '  cried  her  ladyship,  '  you  can't  ride  him, 
Lord  Eldon,  he  has  got  no  shoes  on.' 

" '  Oh,  yes  !  my  lady,'  said  the  servant,  '  he  was  shod  last 
week.' 

" '  Shameful ! '  exclaimed  her  ladyship,  '  how  dared  you,  sir, 
or  anybody,  have  that  pony  shod  without  orders  ? '  '  John,' 
continued  she,  addressing  her  husband,  '  you.  know  you  only 
rode  him  out  shooting  four  times  last  year,  so  I  had  his  shoes 
taken  off,  and  have  kept  them  ever  since  in  my  bureau.  They 
are  as  good  as  new,  and  these  people  have  shod  him  again  ; 
we  shall  be  ruined  at  this  rate  !  ' ' 

"  Repeated  a  story  which  I  had  from  Dubois,  that  a  friend 
of  his  walking  one  day  in  Hyde  Park  with  Lord  Eldon,  was 
stopped  by  the  latter,  who  pointed  to  a  house  and  said  :  — 

"  '  In  that  house  the  present  Lady  Eldon  formerly  dwelt,  and 
from  that  house,  in  consequence  of  my  addresses  being 
thought  presumptuous,  I  was  banished.  During  my  exile  I 
was  informed  that  her  father  was  going  to  give  a  masked  ball, 
and  I  resolved  to  make  my  way  in  disguise.  I  mingled  with 
the  company,  and  when  I  came  to  my  present  lady,  I  said, 
"Don't  be  alarmed,  my  love,  it  is  I — John  Scott!"  She, 
however,  could  not  command  herself,  and  screamed.  I  was 
detected  and  kicked  out  of  the  house.'  " 

"  George  the  Third  scolded  Lord  North  for  never  going  to 
the  concert  of  ancient  music  :  '  Your  brother,  the  bishop,' 
said  the  King.  '  never  misses  them,  my  lord.'  '  Sir,'  answered 
the  premier,  '  if  I  were  as  deaf  as  my  brother,  the  bishop, 
I  would  never  miss  them  either  !  '  Told  me  by  Dr.  Blomberg, 
who  was  present." 

THE  BLOMBERG  GHOST  STORY. 

The  name  of  Dr.  Blomberg  is  well  known  in  connection 
with  the  celebrated  ghost  story  so  frequently  narrated  by 
George  IV.  As  several  versions  of  this  strange  occurrence 
are  in  existence,  it  may  be  worth  while  to  give  the  one  which 
Mr.  Barham  heard  at  the  doctor's  own  table,  either  on  the 
occasion  when  the  foregoing  anecdotes  were  told,  or  a  few 
days  later. 


64  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

"  During  the  American  War,  two  officers  of  rank  were  seated 
in  their  tent,  and  delayed  taking  their  supper  till  a  brother 
officer,  then  absent  upon  a  foraging  party,  should  return. 
Their  patience  was  well-nigh  exhausted,  and  they  were  about 
to  commence  their  meal,  concluding  something  had  occurred 
to  detain  the  party,  when  suddenly  his  well-known  footstep 
was  heard  approaching.  Contrary  to  their  expectation,  how- 
ever, he  paused  at  the  entrance  of  the  tent,  and  without  com- 
ing in  called  on  one  of  them  by  name,  requesting  him  with 
much  earnestness,  as  soon  as  he  should  return  to  England,  to 
proceed  to  a  house  in  a  particular  street  in  Westminster,  in  a 
room  of  which  (describing  it)  he  would  find  certain  papers  of 
great  consequence  to  a  young  lad  with  whom  the  speaker  was 
nearly  connected.  The  speaker  then  apparently  turned  away, 
and  his  footsteps  were  distinctly  heard  retiring  till  their  sound 
was  lost  in  distance.  Struck  with  the  singularity  of  his  be- 
havior, they  both  rose,  and  proceeded  in  search  of  him.  A 
neighboring  sentinel  on  being  questioned  denied  that  he  had 
either  seen  or  heard  any  one,  although,  as  they  believed,  their 
friend  must  have  passed  close  by  his  post.  In^a  few  minutes 
their  bewilderment  was  changed  into  a  more  painful  feeling  by 
the  approach  of  the  visiting  officer  of  the  night,  who  informed 
them  that  the  party  which  went  out  in  the  morning  had  been 
surprised,  and  that  the  dead  body  of  poor  Major  Blomberg 
(their  friend)  had  been  brought  into  the  camp  about  ten  min- 
utes before.  The  two  friends  retired  in  silence,  and  sought 
the  corpse  of  the  person  who,  as  both  were  fully  persuaded, 
had  just  addressed  them.  They  found  him  pierced  by  three 
bullets,  one  of  which  had  passed  through  his  temples  and 
must  have  occasioned  instant  death.  He  was  quite  cold,  and 
appeared  to  have  been  dead  some  hours.  It  may  easily  be 
conceived  that  a  memorandum  was  immediately  made  of  the 
request  they  had  both  so  distinctly  heard,  and  of  the  circum- 
stances attending  it,  and  that  on  the  return  of  the  regiment  to 
Europe,  no  time  was  lost  in  searching  for  the  papers.  The 
house  was  found  without  difficulty,  and  in  an  upper  room, 
agreeably  with  the  information  they  had  received  in  such  an 


THE  BLOMBERG   GHOST  STORY.  65 

extraordinary  manner,  an  old  box  was  discovered,  which  had 
remained  there  many  years,  containing  the  title-deeds  of  some 
property  now  in  the  possession  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Blomberg, 
who  was  the  '  lad  '  mentioned  by  name  by  the  voice  at  the 
tent  door. 

"  This  story,"  adds  Mr.  Barham,  "  was  repeated  to  me  by 
Mr.  Atwood,  the  King's  organist,  at  Dr.  Blomberg's  own 
table  in  his  temporary  absence.  Mr.  Atwood  declared  that  he 
had  heard  the  story  related  by  George  IV.  (whose  foster- 
brother  Dr.  Blomberg  was)  more  than  once,  and  on  one  oc- 
casion when  the  doctor  himself  was  present.  He  further 
stated  that  the  King  had  mentioned  the  names  of  all  the  par- 
ties concerned,  but  that,  with  the  exception  of  Major  Blom- 
berg's, they  had  escaped  his  memory." 

Since  the  foregoing  pages  were  prepared  for  the  press  a 
very  different  version  of  the  story  has  reached  me,  furnished 
by  a  member  of  the  family  to  the  head  of  which  the  Yorkshire 
property  has  descended.  The  account  given  by  my  informant 
contains  the  substance  of  a  narrative  of  the  circumstances 
under  which  the  alleged  supernatural  communication  was 
made,  drawn  up  by  the  officer  to  whom  it  was  more  particu- 
larly addressed.  It  runs  as  follows  :  — 

Captain  (?  Major)  Edward  Blomberg  was  left  a  widower, 
with  one  little  boy,  two  years  old,  who  was  heir  to  a  fair 
estate  in  Yorkshire  then  in  the  possession  of  Baron  Blomberg. 
The  captain's  regiment  being  stationed  in  the  island  of  Mar- 
tinique, he  was,  in  the  course  of  duty,  sent  off  with  dispatches 
to  a  place  at  a  considerable  distance  from  headquarters.  One 
night,  shortly  after  his  departure,  an  officer  who,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  crowded  condition  of  the  barracks,  was  sharing 
his  chamber  with  a  comrade,  was  aroused,  just  as  he  was 
dropping  off  to  sleep,  by  the  opening  of  the  door.  Captain 
Blomberg  entered,  walked  slowly  to  his  friend's  bed,  and  drew 
back  the  mosquito  curtains. 

"Why,  Blomberg,"  exclaimed  the  latter  in  astonishment, 
"  what  on  earth  has  brought  you  back  ?  " 

The  intruder  answered  :  "  This  night  I  died  at ,  and  I 

S 


66  RICHARD  HARRiS  BARIIAM. 

have  come  hither  to  beg  you  to  take  charge  of  my  little 
orphan  boy."  He  then  gave  the  address  of  the  child's  grand- 
mother and  aunt,  who  were  residing  in  London,  and  requested 
that  his  son  might  be  sent  to  them  immediately ;  adding  di- 
rections as  to  the  searching  for  certain  papers  necessary  to 
establish  the  boy's  title  to  the  property  of  which  he  was  heir. 
This  done,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  the  figure  departed. 
Perplexed,  not  to  say  alarmed,  and  thinking  it  just  possible 
that  his  imagination  might  have  played  him  false,  the  officer 
called  to  the  occupant  of  the  other  bed  :  — 

"  Did  you,"  he  asked,  "  see  any  one  come  into  the  room  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  was  the  answer ;  "  it  was  Blomberg,  was  it  not  ? 
What  did  he  want  ?  " 

"  Did  n't  you  hear  what  he  said  ? " 

"  No,"  returned  the  other  ;  "  I  could  hear  that  he  was  talk- 
ing to  you,  but  what  he  said  I  was  unable  to  make  out." 

The  first  speaker  then  related  the  extraordinary  communi- 
cation he  had  just  received.  Both  officers  were  much  affected 
by  the  strangeness  of  the  affair,  and  were  not  a  little  ridiculed 
on  the  following  morning  when  they  narrated  the  occurence  at 
breakfast  in  the  mess-room.  In  the  evening,  however,  a 
message  was  fonvarded  to  the  general  in  command  to  the 
effect  that  Captain  Blomberg's  death  had  taken  place  on  the 
preceding  night,  just  at  the  time  of  his  appearance  in  the  bed- 
room. It  came  out  that  he  had  died  of  fever,  evidently 
brought  on  by  depression  of  spirits  occasioned  by  the  loss  of 
his  wife.  No  time  was  lost  in  seeking  out  the  child,  who  was 
found  and  dispatched  to  England,  where  he  appears  to  have 
been  somewhat  coldly  received  by  the  grandmother.  His 
story,  however,  happened  to  reach  the  ears  of  Lady  Caroline 
Finch,  the  Queen's  governess,  who  repeated  it  to  her  Majesty. 

The  Queen,  struck  by  the  interest  attaching  to  the  boy,  de- 
clared that  little  Blomberg  should  never  want  a  home  ;  and 
immediately  sending  for  him  ordered  that  he  should  be 
brought  up  in  the  royal  nursery.  She  afterwards  provided 
for  his  education,  and  saw  to  the  settlement  of  his  property. 
In  addition  to  this,  when  the  lad  reached  the  age  of  nine 


DR.  BLOMBERG  AND  HIS  FIDDLES.  6/ 

years,  the  Queen  employed  Gainsborough  to  paint  his  por- 
trait, and  subsequently  presented  the  picture  to  the  original. 
This  lad,  brought  up  at  the  palace,  became  in  due  time 
chaplain  to  George  IV.  and  residentiary  of  St.  Paul's.  He 
married  Miss  Floyer,  a  Dorsetshire  lady,  but,  continuing 
childless,  adopted  her  niece ;  and  narrative  and  portrait, 
papers  and  estate  —  to  say  nothing  of  the  ghost's  plates  and 
spoons  —  are,  I  am  told,  at  the  present  time  in  the  possession 
of  this  lady's  representative. 

DR.  BLOMBERG  AND  HIS  FIDDLES. 

Dr.  Blomberg  was  an  amiable  man,  that  he  was  a  sound 
divine  may  be  taken  for  granted,  and  assuredly  he  was  a  very 
excellent  musician.  Fiddling  was  his  strong  point  and  his  un- 
failing amusement  ;  there  were  people  who  believed  that  he 
kept  a  greased  bow  for  silent  play  on  Sundays.  Three  fiddles 
he  possessed  —  three  fiddles  that  he  loved,  I  had  almost  said, 
like  children.  And  no  wonder ;  they  were  mellow,  marvel- 
ous instruments — one  a  genuine  Straduarius  of  incalculable 
value.  It  is  curious  how  players  become  attached  to  their 
fiddles  !  I  speak  in  ignorance,  but  I  never  heard  of  any  one 
conceiving  a  strong  affection  for  a  trombone,  or  a  big  drum, 
or  a  key  bugle,  but  there  appears  to  be  something  exception- 
ally fascinating  about  a  fiddle — something  which  commends 
that  simple  parent  of  sweet  sounds  to  its  master's  heart  in  a 
degree  not  attained  by  organs  more  powerful  or  more  elabor- 
ate. There  are  some  fiddles  too,  I  believe,  which  love  their 
owners  —  at  least  they  speak  as  if  they  do.  But  this  by  the 
way.  One  mo'rning  Dr.  Blomberg  came  to  my  father  in  dire 
distress.  The  tears,  without  figure  of  speech,  were  in  his 
eyes  as  he  told  his  pitiful  story.  He  had  been  robbed  — 
robbed  of  his  fiddles  —  robbed  of  all  three  —  all  three  were 
gone  !  A  former  servant  who  had  been  detected  in  some 
petty  dishonesty  and  discharged  was,  it  was  pretty  clear,  "  the 
gentleman  concerned  in  the  abstraction."  But  what  was  to 
be  done  ?  How  get  at  the  offender  —  or  rather  at  the  fiddles, 
one  of  which,  the  solace  of  the  Doctor's  life,  his  incomparable 
Straduarius,  was,  as  had  been  intimated  by  the  culprit's  wife, 


68  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARIUM. 

lying  in  pledge  at  a  pawnbroker's  shop  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Smithfield  ?  It  was  impossible  for  Dr.  Blomberg  himself,  a 
dignified  clergyman  in  shorts  and  shovel  hat,  to  penetrate  the 
recesses  of  Cock  Lane  and  Barbican.  Would  Mr.  Barham 
help  him  at  his  need  ?  This,  it  is  needless  to  say,  my  father 
very  readily  promised  to  do,  and  as  he  happened  to  number 
among  his  acquaintances  not  only  the  chief  magistrate  at  Bow 
Street,  Sir  Richard  Birnie,  but  both  Townshend  and  Ruthven, 
the  celebrated  "  runners,"  he  obtained  from  one  or  other  of 
these  experts  some  practical  hints,  acting  upon  which  he  paid 
a  visit  that  very  evening  to  the  Smithfield  establishment. 

After  an  animated  discussion  with  the  proprietor,  and  an 
offer,  hastily  declined,  to  refer  the  matter  to  the  arbitration  of 
Sir  Richard,  the  missing  violin  was  produced,  and,  in  consid- 
eration of  the  repayment  of  five  pounds  which  had  been  ad- 
vanced upon  it,  handed  over  to  the  applicant.  Wrapping  his 
prize  up  in  a  silk  pocket-handkerchief,  my  father  hurried  off, 
late  as  it  was,  to  the  Doctor's  house  in  Amen  Corner,  and  re- 
stored the  recovered  Cremona  to  his  arms.  The  old  gentle- 
man's delight  was  touching  to  witness.  He  jumped  up,  seized 
his  bow  and  ran  it  over  the  strings  ;  the  tone  was  unimpaired  ; 
he  tapped  and  sounded  the  lungs  of  his  favorite  —  they  were 
sound  as  ever.  His  gratitude  was  overwhelming  ;  and  my 
father  always  maintained  that  had  the  living  of  Tottenham 
been  vacant  at  that  moment,  and  at  the  Doctor's  option,  he 
would  to  a  certainty  have  at  once  bestowed  upon  his  benefac- 
tor the  best  piece  of  preferment  in  the  gift  of  the  Dean  and 
Chapter.  Eventually  the  other  two  fiddles  were  restored  by 
his  exertions. 

MURDER  OF  MRS.  DONATTY. 

Mr.  Barham's  acquaintance  with  Sir  Richard  Birnie  has 
been  mentioned.  It  was  of  old  standing  and  of  sufficient 
weight  to  procure  an  entrance  into  the  police  office  and 
on  the  bench,  during  the  examination  of  the  Cato  Street  con- 
spirators on  the  night  of  the  2gth  of  February,  1820  ;  and  I 
have  often  heard  him  (my  father)  speak  of  the  thrill  of  horror 
which  ran  through  the  court  on  the  production  of  the  bag 
which  the  butcher,  Ings,  had  destined  for  the  reception  of  Lord 


MURDER   OF  MRS.   DONATTY.  69 

Castlereagh's  head.  Happily  the  villains  were  betrayed.  But 
about  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  viz. :  1822,  a  murder  was 
actually  committed  which  produced  a  sensation  in  the  town 
unequaled  in  intensity  by  any  similar  event  since  the  massa- 
cre of  the  Marrs  and  Williamsons  in  Ratcliffe  Highway,  and 
which  in  point  of  dramatic  interest  would  vie  with  any  of  later 
days.  The  spot  was  a  house  in  a  narrow  street,  at  the  northern 
end  of  Gray's  Inn,  running  parallel  with  Bedford  Row,  and 
called  Robert  Street.  The  victim  was  one  Mrs.  Donatty,  the 
widow  of  a  sheriff's  officer,  who,  in  the  exercise  of  his  voca- 
tion, had  amassed  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  a  large  pro- 
portion of  which  had  been  obtained  by  the  sale  of  pictures 
painted  by  Morland,  whose  custodian  he  had  happened  fre- 
quently to  be.  One  evening  this  poor  woman  was  found  lying 
dead  in  the  passage  of  her  home  with  her  throat  cut  from  ear 
to  ear  and  a  handkerchief  stuffed  by  way  of  a  gag  into  her 
mouth.  After  the  removal  of  the  body,  Sir  Richard  Birnie 
and  Ruthven,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Barham,  went  to  examine 
the  premises,  and  nothing  in  the  history,  genuine  or  fictitious, 
of  modern  detectives,  can  surpass  the  description  which  the 
latter  used  to  give  of  the  sagacity  exhibited  by  the  trained 
intelligence  of  the  police  officer  —  one  of  the  most  acute  as 
well  as  resolute  that  Bow  Street  could  boast.1  He  corrected 
without  any  affectation  or  failure  of  respect,  the  hasty  and 
occasionally  erroneous  guesses  of  the  magistrate  ;  gave  his 
reasons  simply  for  believing  that  the  assassin  had  been  ad- 
mitted in  the  usual  way  at  the  front  door,  and  had  effected  his 
purpose  as  the  woman  was  preceding  him  to  the  sitting-room 
—  inferring  that  he  was  either  an  habitual  visitor  or  that  he 
had  been  expected  on  this  particular  occasion  ;  commented  on 
the  height  of  the  man  who  had  inflicted  the  wound  from  its 
position, —  a  calculation  curiously  confirmed  by  a  subsequent 
discovery  ;  and  then  remarking  that  an  inner  door  had  been 
forced  — 

"  Aye,  with  this  chisel,"  interrupted  the  magistrate,  picking 
up  a  heavy  tool. 

1  He  headed  the  officers  in  the  attack  upon  the  loft  in  Cato  Street,  without  waiting 
for  the  arrival  of  the  Coldstream  Guards. 


7O  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

"  Pardon  me,  Sir  Richard,  not  with  that ;  it  is  too  large  to 
produce  the  marks  you  see  about  the  lock.  It  was  done  with 
a  narrower  instrument,  one  with  which  he  also  broke  open 
this  small  box."  "  Why,  it  is  merely  an  old  tea-caddy  !  "  ob- 
jected the  other.  "  Yes,  Sir  Richard,  an  old  tea-caddy,  but  it 
has  been  forcibly  opened,  as  you  may  see." 

The  party  then  proceeded  to  a  small  yard  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  a  grimy,  damp,  well-like  looking  place,  shut  in  by  high 
walls,  in  one  angle  of  which  stood  a  half-rotten  water-butt. 
After  a  careful  examination  of  this  spot  the  officer  observed  :  — 

"  The  man  was  disturbed  before  he  had  time  to  ransack  the 
house,  probably  by  a  knock  at  the  front  door,  which  prevented 
his  leaving  by  the  way  he  entered,  so  he  had  to  make  his  escape 
over  that  wall,  and  so  got  into  Great  Ormond  Street.  Here 
you  see,  sir,"  pointing  out  a  small  space  on  the  stand  of  the 
water-butt,  from  which  the  dark  green  mould  had  lately  been 
detached,  "  here  he  placed  his  left  foot ;  there  his  left  hand  — 
he  is  a  tall  man,  as  I  supposed  ;  here  came  his  right  foot  — 
you  can  see  the  brick  scraped  by  the  toe  of  his  boot ;  there  his 
right  hand  grasped  the  top  of  the  wall.  With  a  spring  he 
raised  himself  up,  knocking  out  the  mortar,  as  you  observe,  in 
the  scramble  ;  and  he  then  dropped  easily  down  on  the  other 
side." 

Certain  slightly  suspicious  circumstances  led  to  the  arrest  of 
a  young  man,  the  nephew  of  the  deceased,  indeed,  the  only 
relative  she  had.  He  was  of  a  dissolute  character,  and, 
though  as  a  boy  a  great  favorite  of  the  old  lady's,  had  of  late 
been  known  more  than  once  to  have  exchanged  angry  words 
with  her.  In  person  he  was  tall.  This  was  pretty  much  all 
that  could  be  alleged  against  him  at  the  time.  On  the  other 
hand,  his  horror  and  grief  at  the  bloody  deed  appeared  genuine, 
and  the  magistrate,  notwithstanding  the  opinion  of  the  police, 
saw  no  sufficient  cause  for  detaining  him.  The  next  day  he 
disappeared,  but  many  years  afterwards  the  man,  then  being 
on  his  death-bed  in  America,  confessed  that  he  was  indeed  the 
murderer  ;  that  the  murder  had  been  effected  as  Ruthven  had 
surmised  ;  that  he  had  broken  open  the  tea-caddy,  which  he 


MESMERISM.  J\ 

knew  to  contain  his  aunt's  will,  by  the  provisions  of  which,  as 
she  had  informed  him  he  was  left  penniless  in  consequence  of 
his  repeated  misconduct ;  that  he  had  secured  the  document 
and  destroyed  it,  in  the  expectation  of  coming  in  as  heir  for 
the  whole  of  the  property,  not  being  at  the  time  aware  that  as 
an  illegitimate  child,  which  he  was,  he  was  debarred  by  law 
from  inheriting  a  farthing.  He  added  that  he  was  disturbed 
by  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  compelled  to  secure  his  retreat  by 
the  route  so  cleverly  tracked  by  the  Bow  Street  officer.  Mr. 
Townshend's  remarks,  made  in  the  hearing  of  my  father,  on 
the  simplicity  of  Sir  Richard  Birnie  in  letting  the  fellow  slip 
through  his  fingers  after  the  police  had  fairly  secured  him, 
were  in  that  worthy's  usually  forcible  and  figurative  style. 

MESMERISM. 

It  was  in  the  spring  either  of  this  year.  1822,  or  of  the  year 
following,  that  Mr.  Barham  became  a  witness  of  one  of  those 
extraordinary  exhibitions  of  the  influence  of  the  imagination  or 
faith  upon  the  bodily  organs  which  forms,  we  are  told  by  the 
orthodox  physicians,  the  basis  of  the  ephemeral  systems, 
whether  of  the  school  of  Mesmer  or  others,  that  are  continually 
springing  up  around  us.  With  instances  indeed  of  the  in- 
jurious effects  which  mental  impressions  are  capable  of  pro- 
"ducing  upon  the  body,  medical  works  abound.  Dr.  Hughes 
Bennett,  in  his  "  Lectures  on  Clinical  Medicine,"  No.  iv.  p. 
1 74>  gives  one  especially  marvelous  case  of  what  he  terms 
"  the  predominance  of  ideas  :  " 

"  A  butcher,"  he  says,  "  was  brought  into  a  druggist's  shop 
(at  Edinburgh )  from  the  market-place  opposite,  laboring  un- 
der a  terrible  accident.  The  man,  on  trying  to  hook  up  a 
heavy  piece  of  meat  above  his  head,  slipped,  and  the  sharp  hook 
penetrated  his  arm,  so  that  he  himself  was  suspended.  On 
being  examined,  he  was  pale,  almost  pulseless,  and  expressed 
himself  as  suffering  acute  agony.  The  arm  could  not  be  moved 
without  causing  excessive  pain,  and  in  cutting  off  the  sleeve  he 
frequently  cried  out ;  yet  when  the  arm  was  exposed  it  was 
found  to  be  quite  uninjured,  the  hook  having  only  traversed 
the  sleeve  of  his  coat." 


72  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

The  same  author  allows  that,  in  like  manner,  so  far  from  its 
being  improbable  that  real  cures  are  occasionally  effected 
through  the  medium  of  the  imagination,  "  all  that  we  know  of 
the  effects  of  confident  promises  on  the  one  hand,  .and  belief 
on  the  other,  render  it  very  likely  that  such  have  occurred." 

The  case  that  fell  under  Mr.  Barham's  observation  was  that 
of  an  old  friend,  Major  Hart.  I  can  remember  him  (for  he 
was  fond  of  children,  —  fond,  that  is  to  say,  of  teasing  them,  — 
and  children  were  of  course  fond  of  him),  a  slight,  short  man 
with  a  pale  face,  white  hair,  and  glittering  eyes,  and  the 
possessor  of  a  certain  bright  shilling  which  was  the  object  of 
my  thoughts  by  day  and  my  dreams  by  night.  As  an  officer 
in  the  Rifle  Brigade,  he  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  service  ;  had 
been  frequently  and  severely  wounded  ;  and  was  now  sinking 
under  a  complication  of  disorders,  of  which  partial  paralysis 
was  one.  He  had  become  utterly  prostrate.  The  country 
doctors  —  he  was  living,  I  believe,  at  Maidstone  —  shook  their 
heads,  and  admitted  they  could  do  no  more.  Then  it  was  that 
some  one  whispered  —  "  Try  mesmerism  !  "  Hart  caught  at 
the  suggestion  at  once.  There  was  in  London,  at  this  time, 
a  professor  of  animal  magnetism,  whose  fame  had  reached  even 
unto  Maidstone.  His  success  was  wonderful.  Every  human 
ill,  old  age  scarcely  excepted,  was  to  be  cured  by  some  new 
and  occult  process,  of  which  he  was  the  fortunate  discoverer. 
If  men  persisted  in  dying  of  disease,  it  was  simply  through 
their  own  willfulness,  obstinacy,  and  incredulity.  To  this  man 
the  Major  was  determined  to  apply,  and  although  he  had  been 
for  several  weeks  considered  incapable  of  quiting  his  bedroom, 
he  insisted  upon  being  placed  in  a  carriage  and  conveyed  to 
my  father's  house  in  town.  With  the  assistance  of  a  servant, 
the  coachman,  and  Mr.  Barham.  he  was  removed  from  the 
vehicle  to  the  apartment  prepared  for  him.  After  resting  \\ 
couple  of  days,  during  which  he  scarcely  spoke,  he  was,  in  like 
manner,  lifted  into  a  hackney  coach  and  driven  off  to  the  res- 
idence of  the  celebrated  practitioner.  The  same  care  was 
necessary  and  was  observed  in  carrying  the  patient  into  the 
consulting  room,  so  completely  unable  was  he  to  take  a  step, 


MESMERISM.  73 

or  even  to  stand,  without  the  support  of  others.  Placed 
gasping  into  a  chair  he  was  submitted  to  the  keen,  and  for 
some  time  silent,  examination  of  the  doctor.  At  length  the 
latter  turned  to  my  father  and  spoke  to  this  effect :  — 

"  You  must  be  quite  aware,  sir,  that  exaggerated  notions  of 
my  invention,  as  of  everything  displaying  great  and  incom- 
prehensible power,  have  got  abroad.  I  am  not,  however,  the 
charlatan  that  people  would  make  me  out.  Sufferers  are  con- 
stantly brought  here  to  whom  I  can  hold  out  no  hope  of  relief, 
and  with  whom  I  would  rather  have  nothing  to  do.  I  am  nev- 
ertheless perhaps  obliged  to  operate,  and  little  or  no  good 
follows.  Now,  sir,  the  case  of  your  friend,  on  the  contrary,  I 
undertake  with  the  utmost  satisfaction.  It  is  in  every  par- 
ticular, both  as  regards  his  temperament  and  the  character  of 
his  disorder,  precisely  the  case  adapted  to  the  influence  I  shall 
bring  to  bear  upon  it.  I  have  never  met  a  subject  whom  I 
have  approached  with  more  perfect  confidence.  I  stake  my 
reputation  upon  a  cure." 

"  Credat  Judceus  !  "  thought  my  father,  and  the  gentleman 
continued :  — 

"  A  great  effect  will  doubtless  be  produced  this  very  morn- 
ing, but  it  will  be  the  work  of  some  time,  during  which  I  re- 
quire to  be  left  alone  with  my  patient.  Call  again  in  an  hour 
and  you  shall  judge  for  yourself." 

My  father  was  inclined  to  object  to  the  dismissal.  "  Better 
go,  Barham,"  said  the  Major  in  a  tone  distinct  and  clear,  very 
different  from  that  he  had  hitherto  employed,  and  Barham 
went.  He  took  the  opportunity  of  transacting  some  business 
in  the  neighborhood,  by  which  he  was  detained  a  few  minutes 
beyond  the  time  specified.  Finding  he  was  late,  he  took  a 
co^ch  and  drove  back,  with  the  intention  of  carrying  away  his 
friend  in  it. 

"Is  Major  Hart  ready  ?  "  he  inquired  of  the  servant  who 
opened  the  door. 

"  The  Major,  sir,  was  tired  of  waiting,  so  he  has  walked  on  ; 
he  said  you  would  be  sure  to  overtake  him  before  he  got  home, 
he  should  n't  hurry." 


74  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

"  Hurry  ! "  exclaimed  my  father,  "  why  he  can't  move  —  I 
am  speaking  of  the  gentleman  you  helped  to  carry  in." 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  that  is  the  gentleman  —  he  has  walked  on." 

At  this  moment  out  came  the  doctor  himself,  "  It  is  quite 
true,"  he  said  ;  "  Major  Hart  has  left  the  house,  and  insisted 
upon  walking." 

"  Impossible!" 

"  It  is  nevertheless  so.  His  sensibility  is  even  greater  than 
I  expected  to  find  it ;  his  cure  will  be  proportionably  rapid ; 
meanwhile  you  had  better  perhaps  overtake  him  as  soon  as 
you  can,  and  persuade  him  to  ride  the  remainder  of  the  dis- 
tance." 

Half  pleased,  half  alarmed,  and  wholly  bewildered,  Mr. 
Barham  hurried  away,  and  ere  long  caught  sight  of  his  friend 
looking  contentedly  into  the  window  of  a  print  shop.  The 
change  worked  in  him  was  certainly  to  all  seeming  nothing 
short  of  miraculous.  He  could  walk,  use  his  limbs  freely,  was 
free  from  pain,  and  in  the  highest  possible  spirits,  overflowing 
with  gratitude  to  his  benefactor  and  respect  for  science.  He 
admitted  he  was  a  little  tired,  so  got  into  a  coach  and  returned 
to  Queen  Street.  Towards  evening  his  new  strength  gradually 
died  away.  By  next  morning  it  was  clean  gone  ;  and  on  the 
third  day  he  was  again  all  but  speechless.  A  second  visit  to 
the  doctor  was  paid,  and  a  repetition  of  the  treatment  at- 
tempted, but  faith  had  in  the  interval  expired,  and  no  further 
effect  could  be  produced.  He  said  he  would  go  back  to  Kent 
and  die  comfortably  at  home.  Happily  he  was  enabled  to 
reach  his  home  alive  ;  and  the  next  news  we  heard  of  him  was 
that  one  sunny  afternoon,  as  he  sat  by  the  window  in  his  easy 
chair  with  his  Bible  before  him,  he  closed  the  book,  lay  back 
and  fell  asleep,  passing  out  of  life  so  imperceptibly  that  his 
niece,  who  was  sitting  opposite,  was  for  some  time  unaware 
that  he  was  dead. 

EDWARD  CANNON. 

His  appointment  in  the  Chapel  Royal  led  to  an  acquaint- 
ance, which  quickly  ripened  into  a  warm  friendship,  with  the 


EDWARD  CANNON.  75 

Rev.  Edward  Cannon,  also  one  of  the  priests  of  the  house- 
hold, and  who  for  many  years  previously  had  been  on  intimate 
terms  with  the  family  of  Mrs.  Barham.  This  singular  being, 
introduced  to  the  world  under  the  name  of  Godfrey  Moss,  in 
Theodore  Hook's  celebrated  novel  "  Maxwell,"  claims  some 
notice,  the  more  so  as  he  has  scarcely  met  with  justice  at  the 
hands  of  his  facetious  friend. 

For  a  general  idea  of  his  mannerism,  I  can  but  refer  to  the 
striking  portrait  referred  to,  one  of  the  most  perfect  ever  com- 
mitted to  paper.  As  he  is  there  depicted,  so  precisely  did  he 
live  and  move  in  daily  life  —  not  an  eccentricity  is  exagger- 
ated, not  an  absurdity  heightened  i  It  is,  however,  to  be 
regretted  that  the  great  master  restricted  himself  to  the  de- 
lineating the  less  worthy  features  of  the  outward  and  visible 
man,  and  touched  but  lightly  those  high  and  noble  traits  of 
character  which  had  gone  far  to  relieve  the  mass  of  cynicism 
and  selfishness  but  too  correctly  drawn. 

Mr.  Cannon,  was,  in  fact,  both  a  spoiled  and  a  disappointed 
man.  Brought  up  under  the  immediate  care  of  Lord  Thur- 
low,  his  brilliant  wit,  his  manifold  accomplishments,  and,  as 
may  be  hardly  credited  by  those  who  knew  him  only  in  his 
decline,  his  fascinating  manners,  procured  him  a  host  of  dis- 
tinguished admirers  and  proved  an  introduction  to  the  table  of 
royalty  itself.  A  welcome  guest  at  Carlton  House,  Stow,  and 
other  mansions  of  the  nobility,  patronized  by  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor, courted  and  caressed  by  men  —  to  say  nothing  of 
women  —  of  the  highest  rank  and  influence,  he  might  possi- 
bly have  become  too  extravagant  or  too  impatient  in  his  ex- 
pectations :  while  more  reasonable  views  would  scarcely  have 
been  met  by  a  chaplaincy  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  a  lect- 
ureship at  St.  George's,  Hanover  Square  —  the  only  prefer- 
ment he  ever  obtained.  This  neglect,  as  he  esteemed  it,  was 
especially  calculated  to  work  evil  on  a  disposition  naturally 
independent  to  a  fault,  and  associated,  as  it  was,  with  a  humor 
tinctured  overmuch  with  bitterness.  His  caprices  indulged 
and  fostered,  and  his  hope  delayed,  he  fell  gradually  into  utter 
disregard  of  all  the  amenities  and  conventional  laws  of  society. 


76  KICHAKD  HAKKJS  BAKHAAT. 

The  extreme  liberties  he  began  to  take,  and  the  burst  of  sar- 
casm, which  he  took  the  less  heed  to  restrain  as  he  advanced 
in  years,  deprived  him  betimes  of  all  his  powerful  patrons, 
and  at  the  last  alienated  most  of  his  more  attached  friends. 

At  one  of  the  annual  dinners  of  the  members  of  the  Chapel 
Royal,  a  gentleman  had  been  plaguing  Mr.  Barham  with  a 
somewhat  dry  disquisition  on  the  noble  art  of  fencing.  Wish- 
ing to  relieve  himself  of  his  tormentor,  the  latter  observed 
that  his  crippled  hand  had  precluded  him  from  indulging  in 
that  amusement  ;  but  pointing  to  Cannon  who  sat  opposite, 
he  added,  "  That  gentleman  will  better  appreciate  you ;  he 
was  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  fencing  in  his  youth." 

After  a  few  minutes  the  disciple  of  Angelo  contrived  to  slip 
round  the  table,  and  commenced  a  similar  attack  upon  Can- 
non. For  some  time  he  endured  it  with  patience,  till  at 

length,  on  his  friend's  remarking  that  Sir  George  D 

was  a  great  fencer,  Cannon,  who  disliked  the  man,  replied, 

"  I  don't  know  whether  Sir  George  D is  a  great  fencer, 

but  Sir  George  D is  a  great  fool." 

A  little  startled,  the  other  rejoined,  "  Well,  possibly  he  is  ; 
but  then  a  man  may  be  both." 

"  So  I  see,  sir  !  "  said  Cannon,  turning  away. 

As  regards  the  circumstances  which  led  immediately  to  his 
dismissal  from  the  palace,  his  conduct  was  certainly  not 
chargeable  with  blame,  but  was  the  natural  working  of  an 
unbending  spirit  which  scorned  to  flatter  even  princes. 

Possessing,  in  addition  to  the  attractions  of  his  conversa- 
tion, the  charm  of  a  voice  so  unusually  sweet  as  to  have 
gained  him  the  name  of  Silver-tongue  Cannon,  he  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  more  select  parties  of  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
where  his  great  musical  taste  and  talent  not  unfrequently  pro- 
cured him  the  honor  of  accompanying  his  royal  master  on  the 
pianoforte.  On  one  occasion,  at  the  termination  of  the  piece, 
the  Prince  inquired,  "  Well,  Cannon,  how  did  I  sing  that  ?" 

Cannon  continued  to  run  over  the  keys,  but  without  making 
any  reply. 

"  I  asked  you,  Mr.  Cannon,  how  I  sang  that  last  song,  and 


EDWARD   CANNON.  77 

I  wish  for  an  honest  answer,"  repeated  the  Prince.  Thus 
pointedly  appealed  to,  Cannon,  of  course,  could  no  longer  re- 
main silent. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  said  he,  in  his  quiet  and  peculiar  tone,  "  I 
have  heard  your  Royal  Highness  succeed  better." 

"  Sale  and  Atwood,"  observed  the  latter  sharply,  "  tell  me  I 
sing  that  as  well  as  any  man  in  England." 

"  They,  sir,  may  be  better  judges  than  I  pretend  to  be,"  re- 
plied Cannon. 

George  the  Fourth  was  too  well  bred  as  well  as  too  wise  a 
man  to  manifest  open  displeasure  at  the  candor  of  his  guest, 
but  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  being  solicited  by  the  lat- 
ter for  a  pinch  of  snuff,  a  favor  which  had  been  hesitatingly 
accorded  a  hundred  times  before,  he  closed  the  box,  placed  it 
in  Mr.  Cannon's  hand,  and  turned  abruptly  away.1  A  gentle- 
man in  waiting  quickly  made  his  appearance,  for  the  purpose 
of  demanding  back  the  article  in  question,  and  of  intimating  at 
the  same  time  that  it  would  be  more  satisfactory  if  its  possessor 
forthwith  withdrew  from  the  apartment. 

Cannon  at  first  refused  to  restore  what  he  chose  to  consider 
no  other  than  a  present. 

"  The  creetur  gave  it  me  with  his  own  hand,"  he  urged,  "  if 
he  wants  it  back  let  him.  come  and  say  so  himself." 

It  was  represented,  however,  that  the  Prince  regarded  its 
detention  in  a  serious  light,  and  was  deeply  offended  at  the 
want  of  respect  which  had  led  to  it.  The  box  was  returned 
without  further  hesitation,  and  Mr.  Cannon  retired  for  the  last 
time  from  the  precincts  of  Carlton  House. 

He  was,  however,  not  a  man  to  permit  a  single  affront  to 
obliterate  from  his  memory  all  traces  of  former  kindness,  and 
accordingly,  when  the  trial  of  Queen  Caroline  had  excited  so 
much  popular  clamor  against  the  Sovereign,  Cannon  was  the 
first,  on  the  termination  of  that  affair,  to  get  up  and  present  an 

1  Cannon  had  previously  succeeded  in  affronting  Mrs.  Fitzherbert.  On  being 
asked  by  the  lady  what  he  thought  of  a  new  upright  pianoforte  which  she  had  just 
purchased,  he  replied,  scarcely  deigning  to  examine  it,  —  "  I  think,  Madam,  it  would 
make  a  very  good  cupboard  to  keep  your  bread  and  cheese  in." 


78  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

address  from  the  inhabitants  of  the  Isle  of  Wight  to  his  royal 
master.  Delighted  at  this  seasonable  exhibition  of  public 
approval,  and  not  untouched,  it  may  be,  by  the  conduct  of  his 
former  favorite,  the  King  was  all  courtesy  and  condescension. 

"  You  are  not  looking  well,  Cannon,"  he  observed,  at  length. 

"  I  am  not  so  well,  sir,  as  I  have  been,"  replied  Cannon, 
with  a  meaning  smile. 

"  Well,  well !  I  must  send  Halford  to  prescribe  for  you," 
said  the  King.  Nor  did  this  prove  to  be  an  idle  compliment ; 
in  due  time  the  physician  of  the  household  called,  having  it  in 
command  to  tender  to  the  invalid  his  professional  assistance, 
and  at  the  same  time  to  intimate  that  he  might  expect  to  be 
received  again  at  the  royal  parties.  This  honor  Mr.  Cannon 
bluntly  and  resolutely  declined.  On  being  pressed  to  give 
some  explanation  of  his  refusal,  he  merely  answered, — 

"  I  have  been  early  taught  when  I  want  to  say  '  no  '  and  can 
say  '  no,'  to  say  '  no  '  —  but  never  give  a  reason  "  —  a  maxim 
which  he  had  learned  from  his  early  protector,  Lord  Thurlow, 
and  a  neglect  of  which,  the  latter  used  to  boast,  had  enabled 
him  to  carry  an  important  point  with  his  late  Majesty  George 
III. 

Thus  it  was  :  he  had  applied  to  that  monarch  on  behalf  of 
his  brother  for  the  Bishopric  of  Durham,  and  having  some- 
what unexpectedly  met  with  a  refusal,  he  bowed  and  was  about 
to  retire  without  pressing  his  suit,  when  the  monarch,  wishing 
to  soften  his  decision  as  far  as  possible,  added,  "  Anything 
else  I  shall  be  happy  to  bestow  upon  your  relative,  but  this 
unfortunately  is  a  dignity  never  held  but  by  a  man  of  high  rank 
and  family." 

"  Then,  Sire,"  returned  Lord  Thurlow,  drawing  himself  up, 
<;  I  must  persist  in  my  request  —  I  ask  it  for  the  brother  of  the 
Lord  High  Chancellor  of  England  !  " 

The  Chancellor  was  firm,  and  the  King  was  compelled  to 
yield. 

"He  gave  me  his  reasons,"  said  the  former,  "and  I  beat 
him." 

With  respect  to  Mr.  Cannon,  although  he  thought  fit  to  de- 


EDWARD  CANNON.  79 

cline  giving  any  explanation  at  the  time,  he  was  not  so  re- 
served on  all  occasions. 

"  The  creetur,"  he  said,  "  has  turned  me  out  of  his  house 
once  —  he  shall  not  have  the  opportunity  of  doing  so  again." 

Of  the  many  anecdotes  of  the  Chancellor  narrated  by  Can- 
non, I  find  but  few  preserved  ;  the  following,  however,  are 
given  on  his  authority  :  — 

"  The  great  Lord  Thurlow  passed  the  latter  part  of  his  life 
at  Brighton,  and  died  there  —  it  is  said,  while  swearing  at  his 
servant.  The  present  King  (George  IV.)  having  come  down 
to  the  Pavilion,  invited  him  to  dinner,  but  knowing  his  man, 
thought  proper  to  offer  a  sort  of  half  apology  for  some  of  the 
company,  among  whom  were  Sir  John  Lade,  and  several  char- 
acters of  sporting  notoriety.  The  sturdy  old  Chancellor  lean- 
ing upon  his  cane,  and  looking  his  Royal  Highness  full  in  the 
face,  replied,  "  Sir  !  I  make  exceptions  to  no  man.  Sir  John 
Lade,  for  instance,  whom  your  Royal  Highness  has  thought 
proper  to  mention  by  name,  is  an  excellent  character  in  his 
proper  place,  but  that,  with  all  due  deference,  I  humbly  con- 
ceive to  be  your  Royal  Highness's  coach-box,  and  not  your 
table." 

Again :  — 

"A  Mr.  Sneyd,  a  tall,  thin  man,  nicknamed  by  George  IV. 
'  The  Devil's  Darning  Needle,'  was  much  about  Lord  Thurlow 
during  his  last  years,  and  had  a  sort  of  roving  commission 
from  him  to  pick  up  any  stray  genius  he  could  lay  hold  of  and 
bring  him  to  the  old  nobleman's  table.  Coming  in  the  stage- 
coach one  day  to  Brighton  Mr.  Sneyd  scraped  an  acquaintance 
with  a  fellow-traveller  who  turned  out  to  be  the  celebrated  J. 
P.  Curran,  and  he  eagerly  invited  his  new  friend  to  dine  with 
Lord  Thurlow,  but  some  accident  prevented  his  own  attend- 
ance on  the  appointed  day.  Thurlow,  who  had  heard  much  of 
Curran,  when  the  cloth  was  removed,  led  the  conversation  to 
the  state  of  the  Irish  bar,  which  Curran,  who  was  at  that  time 
red-hot  against  the  Union,  abused  in  the  lump  with  great 
vehemence. 

"' Timidity,  my  lord,  and  venality,'  said  he,  'are  the  bane 


8O  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

of  the  Irish  courts,  and  pervade  them  from  the  lowest  to  the 
highest* 

"'Indeed!'  said  Thurlow,  'pray  what  is  the  character  of 

Lord ? '  (naming  a  particular  friend  of  his  own  then  on 

the  Irish  bench). 

*' '  Oh,'  replied  Curran,  '  never  was  man  less  fitted  for  his 
position ;  if  he  has  any  honesty  in  him,  which  is  very  prob- 
lematical, he  is  infinitely  too  great  a  poltroon  to  let  it  ap- 
pear.' 

"  '  Humph  ! '  quoth  the  Chancellor  —  '  a  bad  account  of 
him  indeed,  Mr.  Curran.  And  pray  what  do  you  think  then 

of  Lord  —  ? '  (naming  another  old  crony  also  in  the  same 

rank). 

" '  As  to  him,'  said  the  barrister,  '  he  is  ten  thousand  times 
worse  than  the  other.  The  venality  of  that  man  is  such  that 
no  person,  however  just  and  clear  his  case  may  be,  can  hope 
for  a  verdict  where  he  presides,  unless  he  has  contrived  to 
bribe  his  judge  into  justice.  In  fact  these  two  form  an  ad- 
mirable sample  of  Irish  jurisprudence  at  it  exists  now  —  all 
venality  and  cowardice  ! ' 

"'  In  other  words,'  said  the  Chancellor, 'all  the  Irish  law- 
yers are  rascals  ? ' 

"  '  Pretty  much  so  indeed,  my  lord.' 

"  Here  the  conversation  stopped.  The  next  day  Lord 
Thurlow  attacked  Mr.  Sneyd  for  sending  such  a  flippant  fel- 
low to  his  table,  adding  that  he  saw  nothing  whatever  in  him. 

" '  Ah,  my  lord,'  suggested  Sneyd,  '  that  might  be  because 
there  was  no  one  present  to  draw  the  trigger.' 

" '  Sir,'  replied  the  old  nobleman,  with  one  of  his  inveterate 
frowns,  '  ask  him  to  dine  here  again  to-morrow,  and  be  sure 
you  are  present  and  draw  it  yourself.'  " 

Whatever  version  of  Cannon's  reply  to  Sir  Henry  Halford 
reached  the  King,  and  however  much  at  first  he  may  have 
been  disposed  to  resent  the  rejection  of  his  advances,  the 
offender  was  nevertheless  again  forgiven  and  without  being  for- 
gotten. One  circumstance  certainly  deserves  to  be  mentioned 
as  tending,  in  its  degree,  to  invalidate  those  charges  of  self- 


EDWARD  CANNON.  8l 

ishness  and  want  of  feeling  which  have  been  so  lavishly  di- 
rected against  the  best  abused  of  all  earthly  monarchs. 

Many  years  afterwards,  when  Cannon,  who,  though  of  in- 
expensive tastes,  was  utterly  regardless  of  money  and  almost 
ignorant  of  its  value,  and  who  generally  carried  all  he  re- 
ceived loose  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  giving  it  away  to  any 
one  who  seemed  to  need  it,  was  himself  severely  suffering 
from  the  effects  of  ill-health  and  improvident  liberality,  the 
King,  who  accidentally  heard  of  his  melancholy  condition,  in- 
stantly made  inquiries  with  a  view  of  presenting  him  with 
some  piece  of  preferment  that  might  have  served  as  a  perma- 
nent provision  ;  but  ascertaining  that  his  habits  had  become 
such  as  to  render  any  advancement  in  the  clerical  profession 
inexpedient,  he,  entirely  unsolicited,  sent  his  old  favorite  a 
check  for  a  hundred  pounds. 

This  assistance  proved  most  opportune  and  served  to  supply 
immediate  necessities.  Cannon  was  staying  at  the  time  at  a 
small  hotel  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  near  Twickenham, 
from  which  he  was  unable,  or  rather  unwilling  to  depart,  till 
his  bill  which  had  swollen  to  a  somewhat  formidable  size  was 
discharged.  Mr.  Barham,  therefore,  and  another  friend  has- 
tened down  to  release  him  from  a  position  which  most  people 
would  have  deemed  embarrassing  in  the  extreme.  They  found 
him,  however,  perfectly  happy  in  his  retirement ;  clothed  from 
head  to  foot  in  mine  host's  habiliments,  and,  altogether,  ap- 
pearing so  much  better  in  health  and  spirits  than  could  have 
been  anticipated,  that  Mr.  Barham  was  led  to  address  some 
compliment  to  the  landlady  on  the  good  looks  of  her  guest. 

"  Well,  sir,  to  be  sure,"  replied  that  worthy  personage,  "we 
have  done  our  best  to  keep  him  tidy  and  comfortable,  and  if 
you  had  only  seen  him  last  Sunday,  when  he  was  washed  and 
shai'ed,  you  really  might  have  said  he  "*was  looking  well." 

He  had  formed,  it  appeared,  a  close  intimacy  with  a  monkey 
belonging  to  the  establishment,  and  spent  the  principal  por- 
tion of  his  time  in  its  society,  exchanging  it  occasionally  for 
that  of  adventurous  bipeds  whom  the  steamboats,  then  "  few 
and  far  between,"  landed  at  the  Eyot,  according  as  he  found 
6 


82  RICHARD   HARKIS  BARHAM. 

them  more  or  less  intelligent  than  his  quadrupedal  compan- 
ion. 

Like  his  friend,  Cannon  was  one  of  those  who  gave  full  as- 
sent to  the  poet's  doctrine, 

"  The  best  of  all  ways 
To  lengthen  our  days 
Is  to  steal  a  few  hours  from  night,"  etc. 

And  so  resolutely  did  he  carry  it  out  in  practice  when  the 
opportunity  offered,  as  at  times  to  cause  no  little  inconvenience 
to  his  entertainers.  After  a  dinner,  for  example,  given  by  Mr. 
Stephen  Price  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  all  the  guests,  with  the 
exception  of  Cannon  and  Theodore  Hook,  having  long  since 
retired,  the  host,  who  was  suffering  from  an  incipient  attack  of 
gout,  was  compelled  to  allude  pretty  plainly  to  the  lateness  of 
the  hour.  No  notice,  however,  was  taken  of  the  hint,  and, 
unable  to  endure  any  longer  the  pain  of  sitting  up,  Mr.  Price 
made  some  excuse  and  slipped  quietly  off  to  bed.  On  the  fol- 
lowing morning  he  inquired  of  his  servant  — 

"  Pray,  at  what  time  did  those  gentlemen  go  last  night  ?  " 
"Go,  sir!"  replied  John;  "they  are  not  gone,  sir:  they 
have  just  rung  for  coffee  !  " 

It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  these  eccentricities  could 
altogether  escape  episcopal  observation,  and  although  they 
met  with  considerable  indulgence,  a  rebuke  was  sometimes 
unavoidable.  Cannon,  however,  resented  the  slightest  attempt 
at  interference  with  a  warmth  and  jealousy,  ill-advised,  to  say 
the  least  of  it.  His  hostility  indeed  to  his  diocesan,  Dr. 
Blomneld,  was  not  altogether  to  be  attributed  to  private  feel- 
ing ;  and  certainly  it  could  not  have  been  warranted  by  any 
treatment  experienced  at  his  hands.  Many,  however,  of  the 
bitter  satires  that  appeared  in  the  periodicals,  directed  against 
certain  proceedings  of" this  eminent  individual,  were  from  Can- 
non's pen.  More  than  one  of  the  more  powerful  and  more 
personal  of  these  Mr.  Barium  was  fortunate  enough  to  save 
from  publication.  He  borrowed  the  copy,  and  that  once  in 
his  possession,  he  knew  that  Cannon  was  too  indolent  a  man 
either  to  write  another,  or  to  persevere  in  demanding  the 


EDWARD   CANNON.  83 

restoration  of  the  original.  Those,  however,  who  have  read 
the  "  Dives  and  Lazarus,"  and  "  Lines  written  on  the  exclusion 
of  ill-dressed  persons  from  seats  in  the  Chapel  Royal,"  though 
they  can  scarcely  fail  to  admit  that  nothing  produced  by 
Byron  or  Churchill  excelled  them  in  pungency  -will,  neverthe- 
less, consider  their  suppression  justifiable  even  by  an  act  of 
friendly  felony. 

That  much  of  this  caustic  spirit  sprang  from  blighted  pros- 
pects, and  was  nurtured  by  the  frequent  supplies  of  his  favor- 
ite "  ginnums  and  water,"  there  can  be  little  doubt ;  his  nat- 
ural disposition  was  most  amiable,  and  the  kindness  of  his 
heart,  and  his  complete  freedom  from  selfishness  in  matters 
of  importance,  exhibited  themselves  in  numberless  instances, 
and  never  more  conspicuously  than  in  a  case  of  self-denial 
which  graced  his  declining  days.  He  was  summoned  to  the 
bedside  of  an  old  and  valued  friend  ;  the  lady  (for  a  lady  it 
was  —  like  his  "double,"  "Godfrey  Moss,"  he  had  been  a 
lady-killer  in  his  time)  announced  to  him  that  believing  her 
health  to  be  rapidly  giving  way  she  had  made  her  will,  by 
which,  at  her  demise,  the  whole  of  a  considerable  fortune  was 
to  be  placed  at  his  disposal.  Cannon  looked  at  her  doubt- 
fully :  - 

"  I  don't  believe  it !  "  he  said,  at  length. 

The  lady  assured  him  that  she  was  incapable  of  trifling  on 
such  a  subject,  and  at  such  a  moment ;  and  added,  that  the 
document  itself  was  lying  in  an  escritoire  in  the  room. 

"  I  won't  believe  it,"  persisted  the  other,  "  unless  I  see  it." 

Smiling  at  such  incredulity,  the  lady  placed  the  will  in  his 
hands.  Cannon  took  it,  and  read  it. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  if  I  had  not  seen  it  in  your  own  hand- 
writing, I  would  not  have  believed  you  could  have  been  such 
an  unnatural  brute  ;  "  and  he  deliberately  thrust  the  paper  be- 
tween the  bars  of  the  grate. 

"  What,"  he  continued,  "  have  you  no  one  more  nearly  con- 
nected with  you  than  I  am,  to  leave  your  money  to  ?  No  one 
who  has  better  reason  to  expect  to  be  your  heir,  and  who  has 
a  right  to  be  provided  for  first  and  best  ?  Pooh  !  you  don't 


84  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

know  how  to  make  a  will.  I  must  send  Dance,  a  very  re- 
spectable man  in  his  way,  red  tape  and  parchment  and  all 
that  —  he  shall  make  'your  will  ;  you  may  leave  me  a  legacy, 
there  's  no  harm  in  that.  I  am  a  poor  man,  and  want  it ;  but 

I  am  not  a-going  to  be  d to  please  you." 

A  new  will  was  accordingly  drawn  up  on  Cannon's  sug- 
gestion, bequeathing  to  him  merely  a  sum  of  four  thousand 
pounds.  It  will  scarcely  be  credited  that  advantage  was 
afterwards  taken  of  a  technical  informality  (in  ignorance,  it  is 
to  be  hoped,  of  previous  circumstances)  to  resist  his  claim 
even  to  this.  It  appeared  that  two  copies  of  the  will  were 
executed  ;  one  of  which  was  retained  in  the  custody  of  the 
testatrix,  while  the  other  was  handed  over  to  the  care  of  a 
trustee.  After  a  time,  however,  the  lady  sent  for  the  dupli- 
cate, which  was  returned  to  her ;  and  on  her  death  the  two 
documents  were  found  in  a  drawer  folded  up  together.  From 
one  every  name  except  Cannon's  had  been  snipped  out  with  a 
pair  of  scissors  ;  the  other  remained  intact.  Upon  this  it  was 
contended  that  by  mutilating  one  copy  the  testatrix  had  can- 
celed both ;  and  a  precedent  was  alleged  to  be  found  in  the 
case  of  a  gentleman  who,  taking  with  him  to  India  one  copy 
of  his  will,  which  he  subsequently  destroyed,  left  another  in 
the  charge  of  his  solicitor  at  home.  This  on  being  produced 
was  pronounced  void  in  virtue  of  the  canceling  of  its  fellow. 
It  was  urged  in  answer,  that  the  precedent  did  not  apply,  in- 
asmuch as  in  the  latter  case  the  gentleman  had  revoked  and 
destroyed  the  only  instrument  which  was  within  his  power, 
whereas  in  the  former,  both  papers  being  in  the  hands  of  the 
testatrix,  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  her  destroying  both  if 
she  wished  to  make  the  revocation  complete  ;  from  her  omit- 
ting to  do  so  it  was  to  be  inferred  that  she  repented  of  the 
change  she  had  begun  to  make,  and  so  reclaimed  the  unin- 
jured copy  of  the  will,  to  which  she  determined  to  adhere. 
After  the  delay  of  more  than  a  year  a  decision  was  given  in 
Cannon's  favor,  and  the  remainder  of  his  life  relieved  from 
further  apprehension  on  the  score  of  pecuniary  distress.  He 
withdrew,  shortly  afterwards,  to  Ryde,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight, 


THEATRICAL  ANECDOTES.  85 

taking  his  accustomed  seat  on  the  pier,  with  a  pertinacity  that 
gained  for  him  among  the  boatmen  the  sobriquet  of  the  "  Pier 
Gun."  Want  of  exercise,  and  the  slow  poison  he  became  a 
slave  to,  at  length  did  their  work.  Like  Swift — to  whom,  in 
the  general  structure  of  his  mind,  in  the  power  of  his  reason- 
ing, and  in  the  peculiar  bent  of  his  humor,  he  bore  no  little 
resemblance  —  his  last  hours  were  such  as  might  well  have 
aroused 

"  The  bitter  pangs  of  humbled  genius ; " 

they  were  those  of  one, 

"  Marked  above  the  rest, 

For  qualities  most  dear,  plunged  from  that  height, 
And  sunk,  deep  sunk,  in  second  childhood's  night." 

He  died  forgotten,  and  almost  alone  ;  and  it  was  left  for  a 
comparative  stranger  to  raise  the  simple  tablet  that  pleads  for 
the  memory  of  Edward  Cannon. 

THEATRICAL  ANECDOTES. 

"  Diary :  July  26,  1826.  —  Dined  with  Lord  Wiliam  Lennox. 
Mr.  Fawcett  of  Covent  Garden  told  a  story  of  an  old  woman 
and  her  daughter  in  a  provincial  town  in  Yorkshire. 

"  '  Mither,'  says  the  girl,  '  there  do  go  Mr.  Irby  agen.' 

" '  Ees,  bairn,  he  be  g'ween  to  ploy-house,  I  do  suppose.' 

" '  Mither,  what  do  Mr.  Irby  do  at  ploy-house  ?  Him  be 
never  on  steage  ? ' 

" '  Nay,  girl,  him  be  prompter.' 

"  '  What  be  prompter,  mither  ?  ' 

"  '  Why  prompter,  bairn,  be  mon  wid  book,  and  when  all  be 
fast  on  steage,  he  lowses  'em.' 

"  He  also  gave  us  an  anecdote  of  Cooper  of  C.  G.  T.,  when 
on  a  provincial  tour.  The  prompter  of  the  company  was  a 
drunken,  one-eyed  fellow,  who,  having  been  born  at  Kidder- 
minster, was  generally  known  at  the  theatre  by  the  name  of 
'  Kiddy.'  From  frequent  attacks  of  rheumatic  gout,  he  had 
become  crippled  in  both  his  hands,  and  as  the  porter  pot  was 
never  absent,  was  compelled  to  support  it  by  applying  the 


86  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

knuckles  of  both  his  clenched  fists  in  order  to  get  it  to  his 
mouth.  One  evening,  during  the  performance  of  a  new  play, 
all  the  dramatis  persona  on  the  stage  came  to  a  stand-still. 
'  Kiddy '  was  loudly  called  on  for  the  cue,  but  having  been 
immersed  for  some  minutes  past,  as  usual,  in  contemplating 
the  interior  of  his  flagon,  he  had  lost  the  place,  and  embar- 
rassed at  the  same  time  with  the  mug,  he  cried  out  to  the 
'  call-boy, '  in  a  tone  of  voice  which  was  heard,  and  caused  no 
slight  amusement  in  the  stage  boxes,  — 

" '  Little  boy,  little  boy,  come  here  and  hold  de  pot,  while  I 
sees  where  these  thieves  be.'  " 


ANECDOTE  OF  INDIAN  OFFICER. 

"  Cannon,  who  was  present,  and  in  most  entertaining  mood, 
told,  among  other  things,  his  story  of  a  general  officer  who, 
having  passed  many  years  of  his  life  in  India,  was  taken  by  a 
friend,  on  his  return,  to  dine  with  some  common  relation.  All 
parties  being  anxious  to  conciliate  the  nabob,  who  was  rich, 
old,  and  a  bachelor,  every  attention  was  shown  him  during 
dinner-time.  The  General,  however,  either  from  paucity  of 
ideas,  or  from  his  regards  being  riveted  upon  the  good  things 
before  him,  was  invincibly  taciturn. 

" '  Pray,  General,'  said  a  female  cousin  on  his  left,  '  how  do 
you  like  India  ?' 

" '  Hot,  ma'am,'  said  the  commander,  scarcely  raising  his 
eyes  from  his  basin  of  mulligatawney,  '  Hot,  very  hot ! ' 

"  Another  pause  ensued,  which  was  broken  by  her  brother 
on  his  right :  — 

" '  General,  we  have  heard  much  in  England  lately  of  the 
increase  of  suttees  in  India  :  may  I  ask  if  the  burning  of  a 
Hindoo  widow  ever  came  under  your  personal  notice  ?  ' 

"  '  Widow  !  — burning  !  —  Oh,  aye,  it  was  very  hot,  sir,  devil- 
ish hot,  never  so  hot  in  my  life  ! ' 

"  An  excellent  curry  had  now  engaged  his  attention,  when 
the  general  was  again  addressed  by  a  tall,  thin,  antiquarian- 
looking  personage,  from  the  lower  end  of  the  table, — 


CANNON'S  SNUFF-TAKING.  87 

" '  Pray,  General,  during  the  many  years  you  spent  in  Asia, 
did  duty  or  inclination  ever  carry  you  into  the  neighborhood  of 
the  celebrated  caves  of  Elephanta  ? ' 

"  '  Elephanta  !  Oh,  ah,  Elephanta  —  the  caves  —  of  course. 
Why,  sir,  it  was  very  hot,  devilish  hot ;  hot  all  the  time  I  was 
there  ;  never  was  so  hot  in  all  my  life  ;  sir,  it  was  as  hot  as 
H !' 

"  This  climax,  delivered  with  the  only  spark  of  energy  which 
the  worthy  officer  had  as  yet  exhibited,  completely  precluded 
any  further  attempt  to  engage  him  in  conversation,  and  the 
observant  veteran  was  permitted  to  relapse  into  silence  ;  sev- 
eral of  the  party,  however,  declaring  the  next  morning  that 
they  had  derived  much  pleasure  from  their  relation  the  Gen- 
eral's interesting  description  of  the  state  of  our  Oriental  em- 
pire. 

CANNON'S  SNUFF-TAKING. 

"  Repeate.d  as  much  as  I  could  recollect  of  the  handbill 
respecting  Cannon.  The  latter  having  gone  off  into  the  Isle  of 
Wight  with  Vaughan,  last  Lent,  without  making  any  arrange- 
ment for  the  performance  of  his  duty  at  St.  George's,  Hanover 
Square,  a  placard  was,  a  few  mornings  after  his  arrival,  affixed 
nearly  opposite  his  window  at  the  Bugle  Horn  Hotel,  near  the 
bottom  of  Ryde  pier,  to  the  following  effect :  — 

"  '  STOLEN  OR  STRAYED ! 

"  '  A  stout  black  horse  of  the  punch  breed.  Face  tan,  with 
a  brown  mark  under  the  nostrils,  coat  rough,  with  brown  spots, 
aged,  but  has  the  teeth  of  a  young  one.  Fore-feet  blacker 
than  the  hind.  Is  a  little  hard  in  the  mouth,  but  gentle,  having 
been  ridden  by  a  lady  ;  goes  a  little  lame  on  one  leg,  from 
having  been  ill-driven  in  a  buggy,  and  shies  at  a  Chiirchbell; 
supposed  to  have  been  carried  off  in  Passion-week,  by  some 
itinerant  musicians,  who  have  been  traced  into  Hampshire. 
Whoever  will  give  information,  etc.'  " 


88  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

The  brown  mark  under  the  nostrils,  and  the  blackness  of  the 
fore-feet  mentioned  in  the  description,  are  allusions  to  the 
enormous  quantity  of  snuff  which  Cannon  was  in  the  habit, 
partly  of  taking,  and  partly  of  scattering  right  and  left  over 
shirt,  waistcoat,  table,  chair,  carpet  —  everything  that  he  ap- 
proached. Once,  at  the  Chapel  Royal  he  set  the  Bishop  of 
London  sneezing  through  the  whole  of  the  Communion  Ser- 
vice, and  afterwards  when  the  Bishop  remonstrated  with  him 
on  having  produced  an  old,  colored,  cotton  handkerchief  dur- 
ing the  prayers,  he  merely  asked  in  reply,  — '  Pray,  does  your 
lordship  take  snuff  ?  ' 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it,  Mr.  Cannon." 

"  Ah,  then,  I  do,  my  lord,  a  good  deal." 

His  friend,  John  Wilson  Croker,  gave  him,  in  lieu  of  the 
fourpenny  box  which  he  commonly  used,  a  very  handsome 
substitute  having  a  gold  cannon  on  the  lid,  and  as  a  motto  — 
" Non  sine pulvere" 

THE  DIGNUM  BROTHERS. 

"August  15,  1826.  —  Dined  with  the  Girdlers'  Company  at 
their  Hall,  after  preaching  to  them  at  St.  Michael  Bassishaw, 
Mr  Taylor  in  the  chair.  Among  the  professional  singers  on 
the  occasion  was  poor  old  Dignum.  Anecdote  told  of  him 
which  I  first  heard  from  Nield,  the  lay  vicar  of  St.  Paul's. 
Dignum,  it  seems,  was  complaining  one  morning  to  old  Kny- 
vett,  the  King's  composer,  that  his  health  was  much  impaired, 
and  what  was  very  extraordinary,  that  so  strong  a  degree  of 
sympathy  existed  between  him  and  his  brother,  that  one  was 
no  sooner  taken  ill  than  the  other  felt  symptoms  of  the  same 
indisposition,  whatever  it  might  be.  '  We  are  both  of  us 
very  unwell  now,'  added  Dignum,  '  and  as  our  complaint  is 
supposed  to  be  an  affection  of  the  lungs,  we  are  ordered  to 
take  asses  milk,  but  unfortunately  we  have  not  been  able  to 
get  any,  though  we  have  tried  all  over  London  ;  can  you  tell 
us  what  we  had  better  do  ? ' 


A   KEW  COMER.  89 

" '  Do  ? '  answered  Knyvett,  '  Why  the  deuce  don't  you 
suck  one  another  !  ' 

A  STRANGE  FISH. 

"December  3,  1826.  —  Dined  for  the  first  time  with  Dr. 
Sumner,  Bishop  of  Llandaff,  who  told  me  as  a  fact  that  Dr. 

R ,  a  fellow  of  Eton,  had  some  time  since  ordered  one 

of  his  ponds  to  be  cleaned  out.  A  great  number  of  carp, 
tench,  eels,  etc.,  were  taken  in  the  course  of  the  operation. 
The  Doctor  was  at  dinner  with  some  friends  who  had  been 
viewing  the  work,  when  a  servant  came  in  to  inform  him  that 
in  draining  off  the  water  the  men  had  found  a  chalybeate, 
'  Have  they  indeed  ? '  cried  he  with  much  interest,  '  I  am  very 
glad  to  hear  it.  Tell  them  to  put  it  along  with  the  other  fish 
for  the  present.' 

A  KEW  COMER. 

"May  1 8,  1827.  —  Harry  Sandford  (of  the  Treasury),  Can- 
non, Tom  Hill,  Sir  Andrew  Barnard,  and  myself,  went  up  to 
Twickenham  by  the  steamboat.  On  the  way  we  talked  all 
sorts  of  nonsense,  and  laughed  at  everything,  and  everybody. 
A  queer-looking  old  gentleman  served  especially  to  amuse 
Sandford,  who  took  a  delight  in  quizzing  him. 

"'What  is  this  bridge  we're  coming  to?'  asked  the  old 
gentlemen  of  the  skipper. 

" '  Kew,  sir,'  returned  the  man. 

" '  How  dare  you  insult  a  respectable  individual,'  cried  Sand- 
ford,  'by  insinuating  that  he  is  a  Kew  comer  f 

"  One  of  the  company  asserting  that  he  had  seen  a  pike 
caught,  which  weighed  thirty-six  pounds,  and  was  four  feet  in 
length,  — 

" '  Had  it  been  a  sole,'  said  Harry,  '  it  would  have  sur- 
prised me  less,  as  Shakespeare  tells  us 

"  '  All  the  souls  that  are,  were  four feet  (forfeit)  once.' 

"  On  Hill's  remarking  on  the  number  of  publicans  who  had 
put  up  the  Duke  of  Wellington's  head  over  their  doors,  Sand- 


90  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

ford  said,  '  Yes,  let  his  grace's  death  come  when,  and  how  it 
may,  you  will  never  be  able  to  say  of  him  as  King  Henry  does 
of  Cardinal  Beaufort, 

"  '  He  dies  and  makes  no  sign ! '  " 

OLD  FRIENDS  SHOULD  NOT  BE  PARTED. 

"September  I,  1827.  —  Lord  William  Lennox  and  Mr. 
George  Hill  (of  the  Blues)  met  Dick  and  myself  at  Parrock 
House,  where  we  slept  last  night.  Went  out  shooting  this 
morning,  killing  eleven  brace  and  a  half  of  partridges  ;  dined 
at  two,  and  returned  at  four  by  the  steamboat.  On  the  voy- 
age we  had  our  profiles  taken  .by  an  artist  on  board  for  a 
shilling  a  head,  which  he  executed  in  ten  seconds  by  the  help 
of  a  pair  of  scissors  only.  An  old  woman  on  board  told  some 
of  her  friends  who  were  very  merry  that,  while  she  was  at 
Margate  in  the  course  of  the  summer,  the  friend  at  whose 
house  she  had  been  staying  had  gone  into  the  market  for  the 
purpose  of  purchasing  a  goose.  There  were  but  two  in  the 
whole  place,  offered  for  sale  by  a  girl  of  fourteen,  who  re- 
fused to  part  with  one  without  the  other,  assigning  no  other 
reason  for  her  obstinacy  than  that  it  was  her  mother's  order. 
Not  wishing  for  two  geese,  the  lady  at  first  declined  the  pur- 
chase, but  at  last  finding  no  other  was  to  be  had,  and  recol- 
lecting that  a  neighbor  might  be  prevailed  upon  to  take  one 
off  her  hands,  she  concluded  the  bargain.  Having  paid  for 
and  secured  the  pair,  she  asked  the  girl  at  parting  if  she 
knew  her  mother's  reason  for  the  directions  she  had  given. 
'  Oh,  yes  !  mistress,'  answered  the  young  poultry-merchant 
readily, '  mother  said  that  they  had  lived  together  eleven  years, 
and  it  would  be  a  sin  and  a  shame  to  part  them  now  ! ' ' 

LUTTREL'S  EPIGRAM. 

"  September  20,  1827.  —  Walpole,  Lord  William,  and  Can- 
non dined  here.  Cannon  repeated  Luttrel's  epigram  on  the 
illness  of  the  King  when  Regent :  — 


THOMAS  HILL.  9! 

'"  The  Regent,  sir,  is  taken  ill, 

And  all  depends  on  Halford's  skill. 
"  Pray  what,"  inquired  the  sage  physician, 
"  Has  brought  him  to  this  sad  condition?" 

When  Bloomfield  ventured  to  pronounce, 
"  A  little  too  much  Cherry  Bounce." 

The  Regent  hearing  what  was  said, 

Raised  from  the  couch  his  aching  head, 

And  cried  "  No,  Halford,  't  is  not  so  ! 

Cure  us,  O  Doctor,  —  Curafoa  I  "  '  " 

THE  DUCHESS  OF  ST.  ALBANS. 

"  October  28,  1827.  —  Dined  at  Dr.  Hughes's.  He  read,  from 
a  letter  of  Southey,  the  Laureate,  a  humorous  account  of  his 
first  introduction  to  the  Duchess  of  St.  Albans,  ci-devant 
Miss  Mellon,  alias  Mrs.  Coutts  :  '  I  begin  to  think  with  Sir 
William  Curtis  that  wonders  will  never  have  done  ceasing. 
Here  have  I  been  hooked  into  an  acquaintance  with  a  duchess, 
and  partaken  of  a  potatoe-pie  of  her  grace's  own  making  !  I 
could  tell  you  much  of  her  bonnet,  which  our  vicar  has  already 
compared  to  a  banyan-tree.  I  could  say  much  of  her  lip, 
which  would  seem  to  bespeak  her  a  Nazarite  from  her  moth- 
er's womb,'  etc.  This  led  the  conversation  to  her  Grace's 
habits  and  manners,  when  it  was  mentioned  that,  while  an 
actress,  Miss  Mellon  was  the  terror  of  the  green-room  from 
her  violence,  and  that  on  one  occasion,  having  taken  offense 
at  something  said  about  her  by  Horace  Twiss,  she  went  up 
to  Mrs.  Henry  Siddons,  while  sitting  on  a  sofa,  and  addressed 
her,  to  her  no  small  consternation,  '  Madam,  you  may  tell 
that  rascal  of  a  Twiss  that  the  first  time  I  meet  him  in  a  room 
I  will  shave  his  head  with  a  poker  !  ' ' 

THOMAS  HILL. 

Mr.  Hill  is  the  Mr.  Hull  of  "Gilbert  Gurney,"  —  and  he 
furnished  the  subject  of  Mr.  Poole's  admirable  comedy, 
"  Paul  Pry."  "  Pooh  pooh  !  everybody  must  happen  to  know 
that."  It  may  not,  however,  be  so  generally  known  that  to 
his  spirit  of  inquiry  was  owing  the  discovery  of  the  celebrated 
American  sea-serpent.  Such  was  the  fact !  Hill  was  in  the 


92  Kl  CHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

constant  habit  of  visiting  Mr.  Stephen  Price,  the  manager  of 
Drury  Lane,  at  his  room  in  the  theatre,  and  the  latter  soon 
found,  to  his  surprise,  that  much  that  fell  from  him  in  conver- 
sation relating  to  engagements,  the  receipts  of  "  the  house," 
together  with  portions  that  he  might  have  communicated  of 
his  American  correspondence,  appeared  next  day  in  the  col- 
umns of  the  "  Morning  Chronicle." 

"  When  I  discovered  this,  sir,"  said  Price,  "  I  gave  my 
friend  a  lie  a  day  !  "  and  accordingly  the  public  were  soon 
treated  with  the  most  extraordinary  specimens  of  Transatlan- 
tic intelligence  ;  among  the  rest,  with  the  first  falling  in  with 
the  body  of  a  sea  monster,  somewhere  about  the  Bermudas, 
and  the  subsequent  appearance  of  his  tail,  some  hundred 
miles  to  the  northeast. 

"  Well,  my  dear  boy,"  used  to  exclaim  the  credulous  visitor 
on  entering  the  manager's  sanctum,  "  any  news  ;  any  fresh 
letters  from  America  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,"  would  reply  Price,  with  the  utmost  gravity,  "  I 
have  been  just  reading  an  extract,  sent  under  cover,  from 
Captain  Lobcock's  log  ;  they  've  seen,  sir,  that  d — d  long  sea- 
sarpant  again ;  they  came  upon  his  head,  off  Cape  Clear, 
sir  !  " 

And  so  the  hoax  continued,  till  the  proprietors  of  the  jour- 
nal which  was  made  the  vehicle  for  these  interesting  accounts, 
finding  they  were  not  received  with  the  most  implicit  faith, 
unkindly  put  a  stop  to  any  further  insertions  on  the  subject. 

A  PARADOX. 

"Diary:  November  18,  1827.  —  Coming  home  in  the  even- 
ing from  the  Chapel  Royal,  where  I  had  been  doing  duty,  I 
overtook  in  the  Strand  two  lads,  having  much  the  appearance 
of  linen-drapers'  shopmen,  and  endeavoring  to  smoke  certain 
abominations  under  the  semblance  of  cigars  ;  both  of  them 
very  tipsy.  The  obliquity  of  their  motions,  which  resembled 
that  sort  of  progress  called  by  sailors  '  tack  and  half  tack,' 
rendered  it  difficult  to  pass  them,  and  while  thus  kept,  half 
voluntarily,  half  compulsorily,  following  in  their  wake,  I  heard 
the  following  conundrum  put  by  the  shorter  one  to  his  friend. 


A   DUBIOUS  ACQUAINTANCE.  93 

" '  I  say,  Tom,  do  you  know  where  that  place  is  in  the  world 
where  two  friends,  let  them  be  ever  so  intimate  —  as  good 
friends  as  you  and  me,  Tom  —  can't  be  half  an  hour  together 
without  quarreling  ?  Now  there  is  a  paradox  for  you  ! ' 

" '  A  what  ?  a  Paradise  ? ' 

" '  No,  you  fool,  a  paradox? 

"  '  A  paradox  is  it  ?     Very  well,  and  what 's  that  ? ' 

"  '  What,  don't  you  know  what  a  paradox  is  ?  Why,  a  para- 
dox is  a  —  what  a  fool  you  must  be  not  to  know  what 's  a 
paradox  ;  it 's  a  sort  of  —  oh,  it 's  no  good  talking  to  a  chap 
that  don't  know  what  a  paradox  is  ! ' 

"  Here  the  speaker  relapsed  into  an  indignant  silence,  which 
he  maintained  till  I  was  obliged  to  pass  them,  and  I  remain  to 
this  hour  as  ignorant  of  the  meaning,  or  rather  solution  (for 
meaning  it  may  have  none),  of  the  conundrum,  as  his  antipara- 
doxical  ally." 

A  DUBIOUS  ACQUAINTANCE. 

On  his  first  arrival  in  London,  Mr.  Barham  had  become  ac- 
quainted with  a  young  man  named  Graham,  who  may  be  re- 
membered as  moving  some  years  ago  in  respectable  literary 
circles  ;  he  was  possessed  of  considerable  intellectual  attain- 
ments, a  prepossessing  appearance,  and  very  pleasing  manners. 
The  history  of  his  career,  detailed  in  the  following  extract,  is 
not  without  interest,  presenting,  as  it  does,  the  melancholy 
spectacle  of  one  endowed  with  great  abilities,  all  blighted  and 
rendered  barren  through  want  of  principle. 

"December  2,  1827.  —  Dined  with  Price,  the  manager  of 
Drury  Lane  Theatre.  The  company  were  Const  the  mag- 
istrate, Tom  Hill,  Jerdan,  Broderip,  Braham  the  singer,  and 
myself.  Braham  sang  beautifully Had  some  conver- 
sation with  Price  respecting  W.  Graham,  late  editor  of  '  The 
Literary  Museum,'  whom  I  knew  well  when  he  filled  that  situa- 
tion. He  was  a  tall,  slight,  gentlemanly  young  man ;  rather, 
but  not  offensively,  dandified,  and  with  abilities  and  informa- 
tion which  might  have  made  him  anything  he  chose  to  be.  He 
was,  I  found,  on  comparing  notes  with  Price,  an  American  by 


94  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

birth,  and  at  the  age  of  seventeen  had  committed  a  forgery  on 
a  person  of  high  respectability  at  Philadelphia.  He  was  de- 
tected, but  pardoned  by  the  gentleman  whom  he  had  attempted 
to  defraud,  on  account  of  his  youth,  and  out  of  regard  to  his 
family,  but  on  the  express  condition  that  he  should  leave  the 
country.  Graham  went,  at  first,  no  farther  than  New  York, 
where  Mr.  Price  was  then  practicing  at  the  American  Bar. 
The  latter  received  a  letter  from  the  gentleman  alluded  to, 
requesting  him  to  call  on  the  young  man,  and  either  compel 
him  to  quit  America  forthwith,  or  send  him  back  in  custody 
to  Philadelphia.  This  commission  Price  executed  to  the  letter, 
allowing  him  four  days  for  departure  ;  and  Graham,  sailing  for 
England,  landed  at  Plymouth.  Here  he  was  for  a  short  time 
in  the  company  of  Mr.  Foote,  the  manager  of  the  Plymouth 
Theatre,  and  father  to  the  (subsequently)  celebrated  Miss 
Foote,  of  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  to  whose  Juliet,  I  have 
heard  him  say,  he  played  Romeo  ;  he  also  performed  the  part 
of  Frederic  in  '  The  School  of  Reform,'  she  playing  the 
heroine.  With  Miss  Foote  he  was,  according  to  his  own  ac- 
count, much  '  smitten '  at  the  time,  and  to  this  early  attach- 
ment was  owing  several  of  his  rhyming  effusions  later  in  life  ; 
one  I  recollect  ran  the  round  of  the  newspapers,  and  was  at- 
tributed to  others,  but  I  have  heard  Graham  claim  it.  The 
only  verse  I  can  call  to  mind  runs :  — 

'  Had  I  the  land  that  *s  in  the  Strand,— 

Gentles,  I  beg  your  pardon,  — 
I'd  give  each  Foot,  and  more  to  boot, 
For  one  of  Covent  Garden.' 

"  An  opportunity  occurring  for  a  literary  engagement  in 
London,  Graham  came  to  town,  when  he  distinguished  him- 
self as  a  contributor  to  the  magazines,  and  other  periodicals. 
It  was  about  this  time  I  first  knew  him.  A  gentleman  with 
whom  he  had  become  acquainted  in  the  course  of  business 
had,  I  understood,  taken  a  great  fancy  to  him,  had  sent  him 
for  a  while  to  Cambridge,  and  at  his  death  bequeathed  him  an 
annuity  of  3oo/.  This,  however,  was  soon  disposed  of,  and  the 
sum  raised  was,  according  to  some  accounts,  lost  in  specula- 


A  DUBIOUS  ACQUAINTANCE.  95 

tion,  while  others  said  it  was  spent  in  debauchery.  Of  this  I 
know  nothing  ;  the  only  reason  I  ever  had  for  suspecting  he 
was  of  a  dissipated  turn,  was  an  account  he  himself  once  gave 
me,  when  we  met  accidentally  —  that  a  young  woman  had 
that  evening  called  at  his  lodgings  in  a  hackney-coach,  and  (I 
think  on  his  declining  to  see  her)  had  cut  her  throat  on  the 
spot.  She  was  not  dead  at  the  time  he  mentioned  this,  and 
the  result  I  never  learned.  The  nature  of  this  circumstance, 
and  the  want  of  feeling  exhibited  in  the  recital,  were  of  course 
sufficient  to  check  any  favorable  opinion  I  might  have  formed 
of  him,  and  to  replace  our  acquaintance  on  the  most  distant 
footing. 

"  When  Mr.  Price  first  came  to  London,  with  the  view  of 
taking  a  lease  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  he  was  walking  one 
evening  with  a  friend  in  the  lobby  of  that  house,  when  he  met 
Graham,  but  without  recognizing  him  ;  the  latter,  however, 
watched  his  opportunity,  and  drawing  him  aside,  inquired  if 
he  did  not  recollect  him. 

" '  Why,  sir,'  said  Price,  '  I  have  certainly  seen  you  before, 
but  where,  and  under  what  circumstances,  I  cannot  at  present 
call  to  mind.  The  impression  I  feel,  however,  respecting  you 
is  a  painful  one  ;  and  it  strikes  me  that  either  in  my  profes- 
sional capacity,  or  otherwise,  I  have  seen  you  involved  in 
some  disgrace.' 

"  Graham  did  not  hesitate  to  prompt  a  memory  which 
further  reflection  might  render  less  treacherous,  but  avowed 
himself  at  once,  adding  that  he  was  now  prospering  and  fill- 
ing a  respectable  situation  in  the  world,  and  begging  Price 
not  to  betray  that  they  had  ever  met  before.  This  Price 
promised.  Some  short  time  after,  the  latter  was  called  to 
dine  with  Mr.  R ,  to  whom  he  had  been  recently  intro- 
duced ;  Graham  was  also  asked  for  the  same  day,  and  had 
unhesitatingly  accepted  the  invitation,  but  happening  after- 
wards to  hear  that  he  would  meet  his  countryman  Mr.  Price, 
he  at  once  recollected  '  a  previous  engagement  at  Chelsea,' 
and  that  in  so  marked  a  manner  that  his  friend  perceived  it 
was  a  disinclination  to  meet  the  person  he  had  just  named 


96  RICHARD   HARRIS  BARHAM. 

which  occasioned  his  retracting.  He  of  course  said  no  more 
to  Graham  ;  but  having  a  very  slight  acquaintance  at  the  time 
with  Mr.  Price,  actually  went  to  a  common  friend  to  ask  '  if 
he  were  quite  sure  of  Mr.  Price's  respectability,  as  Graham 
evidently  would  not  meet  him  ? ' 

"  The  real  state  of  the  case  he  did  not  learn  for  a  long  time 
after,  when  Graham,  having  run  through  all  he  possessed  or 
could  borrow,  drew  several  forged  bills  on  Mr.  C.  Knight,  Mr. 
Whitaker,  and  others,  and  absconded  with  the  money.  He 
succeeded  in  returning  to  America,  and  there  became  sub- 
editor of  a  periodical  paper,  when  a  quarrel  arising  between 
him  and  a  young  man  at  a  dinner  party,  Graham  struck  him  ; 
a  challenge  was  the  consequence,  and  the  assailant,  being 
shot  through  the  body  at  the  first  fire,  died  almost  immedi- 
ately. This  happened  in  the  autumn  of  1827." 

JOHN  WILSON. 

"May  14,  1828.  —  Acted  as  one  of  the  stewards  of  the 
Literary  Fund  dinner  with  Lord  F.  L.  Gower,  Mr.  Buckingham 
the  traveller,  Bishop  of  Winchester  (Sumner),  Hobhouse, 
Colonel  Fitzclarence,  and  others.  Duke  of  Somerset  in  the 
chair.  Fitzgerald  the  poet  spouted  as  usual,  and  broke  down. 
Cannon  observed  '  Poeta  nascitur  son  Fitz —  I  beg  his  pardon, 
I  am  afraid  I  am  wrong  in  a  letter ! '  Supped  afterwards  with 
Blackwood  of  Edinburgh,  who  dined  with  us,  at  his  rooms 
at  the  Somerset  Coffee  House.  Jerdan,  Crofton  Croker,  Rev. 
M.  Stebbing  present,  with  whom  was  passed  an  extremely 
pleasant  evening,  till  'Ebony'  fell  asleep.  Amusing  story 
told  of  John  Wilson,  the  Professor  of  Morality,  editor  of 
'Blackwood's  Magazine,'  and  my  old  college  acquaintance. 
He  had  taken  Mrs.  Wilson,  her  sister,  and  her  sister's  hus- 
band, in  the  summer  of  1824,  to  the  inn  at  Bowness  for  the 
purpose  of  viewing  the  Lake  district.  On  the  nv>rning  after 
their  arrival  the  gentlemen  walked  out,  leaving  the  ladies  at 
their  breakfast.  Suddenly  the  latter  were  most  unceremoni- 
ously broken  in  upon  by  Lord  M ,  a  young  nobleman 

recently  expelled  from  Christ  Church,  and  three  of  his  com- 


JOHN  WILSON.  97 

panions,  one  of  whom  was  in  orders.  In  spite  of  the  inter- 
ference of  the  landlady,  they  acted  very  rudely,  insisting  on 
saluting  the  ladies,  and  in  the  scuffle  overturned  the  table. 
Having  been  with  much  difficulty  induced  to  quit  the  room, 
they  next  proceeded  to  stroll  by  the  margin  of  the  magnifi- 
cent piece  of  water  in  the  immediate  vicinity.  On  his  return, 
Mr.  Wilson  was  made  acquainted  by  the  landlady  with  what 
had  occurred  in  his  absence,  and  became,  as  may  be  supposed, 
violently  angry.  In  vain  did  his  brother-in-law  and  the  ladies 
endeavor  to  pacify  him,  and  as  they  locked  the  door  to  prevent 
his  going  in  search  of  the  intruders,  he  sprang  through  the 
window,  and  made  off  to  the  shore  of  the  lake,  where  he 
found  the  party  amusing  themselves  with  throwing  stones  into 
the  water.  Instantly  addressing  them,  he  insisted  on  knowing 

which  was  Lord   M .      The  gentlemen  at  first  were  silent, 

but  on  his  declaring,  if  he  were  not  informed,  he  should 
treat  the  person  nearest  as  the  object  of  his  inquiry,  his  lord- 
ship avowed  himself,  and  was  immediately  knocked  down  ! 
The  other  three  closed  on  the  Professor ;  but  he,  being  a 
very  athletic  man,  as  well  as  possessed  of  considerable  skill 
in  the  art  of  boxing,  soon  gave  the  whole  four  a  very  severe 
drubbing,  and  compelled  them  to  apologize  for  their  improper 
conduct.  The  next  morning  the  clergyman,  mounting  a  very 
respectable  pair  of  black  eyes,  called  on  him,  having  learnt 
his  name  in  the  interval,  and  renewing  his  excuses,  hinted 
that  for  the  sake  of  all  parties  it  would  be  better  that  the 
affair  should  be  buried  in  silence.  Mr.  Wilson  replied  that 
he  was  not  in  the  least  ashamed  of  what  he  had  done,  and 
that  if  his  Professor's  grown  had  been  on  his  back  at  the  time 
he  should  have  had  no  hesitation  in  laying  it  aside  on  such  an 
occasion  ;  but  that  his  object  of  inflicting  a  due  chastise- 
ment having  been  accomplished,  any  publicity  which  might 
arise  would  be  owing  only  to  their  own  indiscretion,  as  he 
should  think  no  more  of  the  matter.  And  thus  the  affair 
terminated." 


98  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

A  GHOST  STORY. 

With  his  vivid  imagination,  and  appreciation  of  the  marvel- 
ous, it  is  not  to  be  altogether  wondered  at  if  Mr.  Btirham  him- 
self appeared  a  little  disposed  to  give  credence  to  the  existence 
of  things  undreamed  of  in  our  philosophy. 

People  who  heard  him  narrate  some  tale  of  mystery  with  a 
dramatic  power  and  flow  of  impressive  language  that  riveted 
the  attention  of  a  youthful  audience,  whom  he  always  loved  to 
amuse,  and  with  whom  he  loved  to  be  amused,  might  easily 
allow  the  undercurrent  of  humor  to  escape  their  notice.  And 
really  he  seemed  at  times  to  endeavor  to  persuade  himself 
into  credulity,  much  in  the  way  that  some  people  strive  to  con- 
vict themselves  of  a  bodily  ailment.  He  sought,  as  it  were,  to 
lull  reason  to  sleep  for  a  while,  and  leave  an  uninterrupted 
field  for  the  wildest  vagaries  of  fancy.  Unlike  poor  Lidy 
Cork,  whose  enjoyment  of  "  her  murders  "  sensibly  declined, 
he  never  lost  his  relish  for  a  "good  ghost  story  ;  "  nothing 
delighted  him  more  than  to  listen  to  —  unless  it  were  to  tell  — 
one  of  those  "  true  histories,"  properly  fitted  with  the  full  com- 
plement of  names,  dates,  and  locale,  attested  by  "  living  wit- 
nesses of  unblemished  reputation,"  and  hedged  in  on  all  sides 
by  circumstantial  evidence  of  the  most  incontrovertible  nat- 
ure ;  one,  in  short,  of  those  logical  cuts  de  sac  which  afford  no 
exit  but  by  unceremoniously  kicking  down  the  opposing  bar- 
rier. It  was  Sir  Walter  Scott,  I  believe,  who  was  thus  driven 
to  extricate  himself  from  a  dilemma  of  this  sort,  when,  luin^ 
asked  "  how  he  accounted  "  for  some  strange  tale  he  had  re- 
lated on  no  less  authority  than  that  of  his  own  grandmother, 
he  was  forced  io  reply,  after  some  deliberation,  —  "  Aiblins  my 
grandmither  was  an  awfu'  leear  !  " 

That  the  lovers  of  well-authenticated  ghost  stories  owe  a 
good  deal  of  their  delectation  to  the  ingenuity  of  the  "awfu' 
leears  "  is,  I  fear,  not  to  he  gainsaid.  The  diary  seems  to  sup- 
ply an  instance  with  which  this  chapter  may  conclude  :  — 

"  It  is  a  singular  thing  that,  of  all  the  numerous  writers  who 
have  told  this  celebrated  ghost  story  (that  of  Sir  George 


THOMAS  HVME.  99 

Villiers  '  ),  not  one  that  I  have  ever  seen  has  alluded  to  a  story 
precisely  similar  in  all  its  details  which  is  recorded  by  the 
Due  de  St.  Simon,  in  the  first  volume  of  his  memoirs,  as  hav- 
ing happened  to  Louis  XIV.  A  man  brings  the  same  message 
of  secret  advice,  together  with  a  secret  known  only  to  the 
King  himself,  which  he  declares  he  has  received  three  differ- 
ent times  from  a  phantom  representing  the  late  Queen,  in  the 
forest  of  St.  Germain,  and  which  had  been  confided  to  the 
speaker  for  the  purpose  of  securing  attention  to  his  message. 
The  King  receives  the  man  more  than  once,  rebukes  his  min- 
isters for  thinking  him  mad.  and  treats  the  whole  business 
very  gravely,  ordering  the  messenger  to  be  provided  for  com- 
fortably in  his  own  sphere  of  life  for  the  rest  of  his  days.  This 
happened  in  1691,  and  St.  Simon  conjectures  it  to  have  been 
a  trick  of  Maintenon's  to  induce  Louis  to  own  their  marriage. 
It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  one  of  these  stories  is  not  a  mere 
variation  of  the  other." 

THOMAS  HUME. 

One  of  the  earliest  and  closest  intimacies  which  Mr.  Barham 
contracted,  after  his  settlement  in  London,  was  with  Dr. 
Thomas  Hume,  who,  like  Cannon,  had  been  for  many  previous 
years  a  constant  guest  of  Dr.  Bond,  the  husband  of  Mrs.  Bar- 
ham's  sister,  at  Han  well.  Hume  must  have  been  naturally  a 
man  of  strange  temper,  and  time  and  circumstances  had  com- 
bined to  deepen  his  peculiarities.  Tall,  upright,  stern,  with  a 
cold,  colorless,  impassive  face  over  which  a  smile  rarely  flitted, 

1  The  particulars  of  the  Villiers  story  are  briefly  these :  A  certain  M  .  Twose,  an 
old  school-fellow  of  Sir  George  Villiers,  father  of  the  first  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
being  asleep  in  his  lodging  in  Drury  Lane,  was  disturbed  by  the  apparition  of  the 
knight,  who  enjoined  him  to  visit  the  Duke  and  admonish  him  as  to  his  conduct  and 
policy,  and  assure  him,  if  he  attended  to  the  warning,  of  life  and  prosperity,  but  to 
predict  his  death  before  St.  Bartholomew's  Day  if  he  neglected  it.  The  man  not 
obeying,  the  visit  was  repeated  thrice,  and  on  the  last  occasion  the  ghost  told  him 
certain  secrets  to  be  used  as  credentials.  Mr.  Twose,  having  with  difficulty  obtained 
access  to  the  Duke,  delivered  the  message.  The  Duke,  on  receiving  it,  consulted 
with  his  mother,  who  was  much  affected,  but  paid  himself  no  further  heed  to  the  ad- 
monition, and  was  soon  after  assassinated  at  Portsmouth  by  Kelton,  as  he  was  about 
to  set  out  for  the  relief  of  Rochelle,  then  besieged  by  the  French. 


IOO  RICHAKD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

he  was  assuredly  not  one  either  to  invite  or  to  accept  any  hasty 
demonstration  of  friendship.  There  was,  indeed,  something 
cynical  about  him  which  had  the  effect  of  keeping  people  in 
general  at  a  distance ;  and  at  a  distance  people  in  general 
were  best  pleased  to  keep.  The  absence  of  all  outward  show 
of  geniality,  and  the  seeming  want  of  sympathy  which  he  dis- 
played, rendered  it  impossible  for  mere  acquaintances  to  feel 
at  ease  in  his  company.  And  yet,  notwithstanding  his  repel- 
lant  manner,  he  was  blessed  with  a  heart  warm,  true,  and 
largely  generous  —  qualities  which  endeared  its  possessor  to  a 
chosen  few,  among  whom  may  be  numbered  Thomas  Moore 
and  my  father.  Moreover,  he  was  a  perfect  gentleman  —  an 
Irish  gentleman,  and  endowed  with  a  courteous  gravity  of 
demeanor  which  lent  an  uncommon  force  to  anything  of  a 
sarcastic  turn  to  which  he  might  be  provoked  into  giving  ut- 
terance. 

One  instance,  in  particular,  of  his  dry  humor  my  father 
used  to  relate.  They  had  walked  together  to  the  office  of  one 
of  the  morning  newspapers,  and  there  the  doctor  silently  placed 
upon  the  counter  an  announcement  of  the  death  of  some 
friend,  together  with  five  shillings,  the  usual  charge  for  the 
insertion  of  such  advertisements.  The  clerk  glanced  at  the 
paper,  tossed  it  on  one  side,  and  said  gruffly,  "  Seven  and 
six ! " 

"  I  have  frequently,"  replied  Hume,  "had  occasion  to  pub- 
lish these  simple  notices,  and  I  have  never  before  been  charged 
more  than  five  shillings." 

"  Simple  !  "  repeated  the  clerk  without  looking  up  ;  "  he  's 
universally  beloved  and  deeply  regretted  !  Seven  and  six." 

Hume  produced  the  additional  half-crown  and  laid  it  delib- 
erately by  the  others,  observing  as  he  did  so,  with  the  same 
solemnity  of  tone  he  had  used  throughout^ —  "  Congratulate 
yourself,  sir,  that  this  is  an  expense  which  your  executors  will 
never  be  put  to." 

Dr.  Hume  was,  as  I  observed,  an  Irishman ;  he  was  in  the 
army,  had  done  some  service,  and  had  attained,  I  believe,  the 
rank  of  physician  to  the  forces.  He  was  married  twice  :  in  his 


THOMAS  HUME.  IOI 

first  choice  he  was  not  fortunate  ;  and  to  this  early  disappoint- 
ment of  his  hopes  something  of  the  sternness  of  his  disposi- 
tion is  in  fairness  to  be  attributed.  His  first  wife  was  the 
daughter  of  a  clergyman,  rector  of  a  parish  which  now  may  al- 
most be  reckoned  in  the  suburbs  of  London,  whose  tragic  end 
shocked  the  town  some  sixty  years  ago,  and  has  since  been 
introduced  in  at  least  one  work  of  fiction.  The  particulars,  as 
my  father  heard  them  on  good  authority,  are  certainly  remark- 
able. The  gentleman,  whom  I  need  designate  no  further  than 
by  the  initial  G ,  was  a  tolerably  well-known,  and  accom- 
plished member  of  society,  an  elegant  scholar,  distinguished 
for  much  of  that  facility  in  the  composition  of  Latin  verse 
which  has  rendered  Father  Prout  famous,  and  one  who  called 
great  folks  —  even  royal  dukes  — his  friends.  More  than  one 
of  these  illustrious  personages  occasionally  did  him  the  honor 
of  visiting  his  rectory.  As  maybe  supposed,  he  was  not  long  in 
finding  out  that  the  entertaining  royalty  is  a  sort  of  hospitality 
far  too  splendid  for  the  fortune  of  a  simple  clergyman.  Per- 
haps, like  so  many  men  under  the  like  circumstances,  and  yet 
without  reason,  he  vaguely  hoped  that  something  would  be 
done  for  him.  But  whether  or  not  he  had  been  beguiled  by 
others,  or  by  himself,  in  this  respect,  one  thing  was  clear  —  the 
something  was  too  long  a-doing !  Ruin  was  inevitable,  and 
was  at  hand  !  Resolving  to  anticipate  the  wreck,  he  got  to- 
gether all  that  was  available  of  his  remaining  property  and 
departed  suddenly  and  secretly  for  London.  It  so  happened 
that  one  of  his  friends,  residing  at  Hanwell,  had  invited  him 
to  join  a  party  at  dinner  on  the  following  clay.  The  guests, 

with  the  exception  of  Mr.  G ,  arrived  in  due  time.      At 

first  there  was  the  usual  disposition  shown,  on  the  part  of  the 
host,  to  await  his  coming;  then  a  little  whispering  among 
the  gentlemen  took  place  ;  and  by  degrees  a  gloom,  felt  but 
not  comprehended  by  all,  stole  over  the  company,  who  sat 
down  to  table  without  the  rector  and  quitted  it  at  an  unusually 
early  hour.  It  was  not  till  the  next  morning  that  the  hostess 
(a  near  relative  of  my  own)  was  informed  of  the  cause  of  her 
friend's  absence.  A  rumor  of  its  nature  had  reached  the  vil- 


102  RICHARD  HARRIS  BAR  HAM. 

lage  the  day  before,  and  had  been  communicated  to  her  hus 
band  in  the  drawing-room  ;  the  report  was  now  confirmed,  and 
there  was  no  further  use  in  maintaining  silence  on  the  subject. 

Mr.  G ,  it  appeared,  had  reached  London  safely  and  had 

been  driven  to  one  of  the  large  coaching  inns  in  the  city ;  I 
believe  it  was  "  The  Spread  Eagle,"  in  Gracechurch  Street. 
Here  he  supped  and  retired,  as  it  was  supposed,  to  rest,  hav- 
ing given  orders  to  be  called  in  the  morning  in  time  to  enable 
him  to  start  off  by  the  first  stage  bound  for  Dover.  Noises,  it 
came  out  afterwards,  were  heard  in  the  course  of  the  night 
proceeding  from  his  room,  but  as  they  probably  had  not  reached 
the  ears  of  any  of  the  servants  of  the  house,  no  notice  was 
taken  of  the  occurrence.  At  the  appointed  hour  "  boots " 
rapped  at  the  traveller's  door.  No  answer  was  returned  ;  the 
summons  was  repeated,  but  in  vain.  The  man  became  alarmed, 
called  his  master,  under  whose  directions  the  door  was  forced, 
and  a  strange  and  shocking  sight  was  disclosed.  Suspended 
from  the  bedstead,  strangled  and  long  dead,  hung  the  occu- 
pant of  the  apartment.  Bed  and  bedding  were  tumbled  in 
confusion  on  the  floor  ;  every  article  of  clothing,  the  curtains, 
even  the  sheets,  were  torn  to  shreds  and  scattered  in  all 
directions  ;  the  furniture  was  overthrown  and  broken,  and  the 
work  of  destruction  was  completed  by  the  self-murder  of  its 
perpetrator.  For  some  little  time  no  clew  to  the  mystery  could 
be  gained,  but  ere  long  a  discovery  was  effected  by  means  the 
most  unlooked  for.  A  hackney  coachman  was  taken  into  cus- 
tody for  drunkenness.  On  being  examined  by  the  police  there 
was  found  in  his  possession  a  pocket-book  containing  bank 
notes  for  a  very  large  amount.  Inquiry  elicited  the  fact  that 
he  had  lately  obtained  change  for  others  ;  and.  finding  evasion 
impossible,  the  man  confessed  that  he  had  a  few  days  before 
driven  a  gentleman  to  the  inn  in  question,  and  that,  on  exam- 
ining the  carriage  after  depositing  his  fare,  a  pocket-book  lying 
among  the  straw  at  the  bottom  caught  his  eye,  and  he  could 
not  resist  the  temptation  to  appropriate  its  contents.  Mean- 
while the  wretched  owner  evidently  had  not  become  aware  of 
his  loss  till  he  had  reached  his  bed-room.  Then  there  must 


CHARLES  MATHEWS    THE  ELDER.  1 03 

have  flashed  upon  him  the  hopelessness  and  horror  of  his  po- 
sition —  a  penniless  fugitive,  with  disgrace  and  ruin  confront- 
ing him  turn  which  way  he  would  !  One  may  well  imagine  the 
despair  and  agony  which  accompanied  the  frantic  search  for 
his  treasure,  and  finally  the  mania  which  drove  him  to  his 
death. 

CHARLES  MATHEWS  THE  ELDER. 

In  1829  Mr.  Barham  appears  to  have  met  for  the  first  time, 
at  the  table  of  their  common  friend,  Theodore  Hook,  Charles 
Mathews  the  elder.  Their  acquaintance  was  of  some  years' 
duration,  but  never  reached  intimacy ;  it  was  accompanied, 
nevertheless,  certainly  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Barham,  by  feelings 
of  no  ordinary  regard.  It  may,  indeed,  be  questioned  whether 
the  golden  opinions  won  by  this  accomplished  actor  in  his  pro- 
fessional career  upon  the  stage  were  more  than  commensurate 
with  the  esteem  which  he  inspired  in  private  life. 

"  Diary :  May  5,  1 829.  —  Dined  at  Hook's.  Horace  Twiss, 
Lord  W.  Lennox,  Jerdan,  Cannon,  Mathews,  Yates,  Professor 
Millington,  Allan  Cunningham,  Price,  Denham,  brother  to 
Colonel  Denham  the  traveller,  Milan  Powell,  F.  Broderip, 
Doctors  Arnott  and  Whimper,  with  myself,  formed  the  party. 
Sir  A.  Barnard  being  engaged  with  the  king,  Lockhart  with 
his  wife,  and  Charles  Kemble  laid  up  with  a  bilious  attack. 
Mathews  told  an  excellent  story  of  an  Irish  surgeon  named 
Maseres,  who  kept  a  running  horse,  and  who  applied  to  him 
on  one  occasion  for  his  opinion  respecting  a  disputed  race. 

" '  Now,  sur,'  commenced  the  gentleman,  '  Mr.  Mathews, 
as  you  say  you  understand  horse-racing,  and  so  you  do,  I  '11 
just  thank  ye  to  give  me  a  little  bit  of  an  opinion,  the  least 
taste  in  life  of  one.  Now,  you  '11  mind  me,  sur,  my  horse  had 
won  the  first  hate,  well,  sur,  and  then,  he  'd  won  the  second 
hate,  well  "  — 

" '  Why,  sir,'  said  Mathews,  '  if  he  won  both  the  heats,  he 
won  the  race.'  • 

" '  Not  at  all,  my  dear  fellow,  not  at  all.  You  see  he  won 
the  first  hate,  and  then,  somehow,  my  horse  fell  down,  and 
then  the  horse  (that 's  not  himself,  but  the  other),  came  up  "  — 


IO4  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

"  *  And  passed  him,  I  suppose,'  said  Mathews. 

"  '  Not  at  all,  sur,  not  at  all ;  you  quite  mistake  the  gist  of  the 
matter.  Now,  you  see,  my  horse  had  lost  the  first  hate "  — 

"'Won  it, you  mean  —  at  least,  won  it, you  said.' 

" '  Won  it !  of  course,  I  said  won  it ;  that  is,  the  other  horse 
won  it,  and  the  other  horse,  that  is,  my  horse,  won  the  second 
hate,  when  another,  not  himself,  comes  up  and  tumbles  down 
—  but  stop !  I  '11  demonstrate  the  circumstances  ocularly. 
There  —  you  '11  keep  your  eye  on  that  decanter  ;  now,  mighty 
well ;  now,  you  '11  remember  that 's  my  horse,  that  is,  I  mane  it 's 
not  my  horse,  it's  the  other,  and  this  cork  —  you  observe  this 
cork  —  this  cork  's  my  horse,  and  my  horse,  that  is  this  cork, 
had  won  the  first  hate  '  — 

" '  Lost  it,  you  said,  sir,  just  now,'  groaned  Mathews,  rapidly 
approaching  a  state  of  complete  bewilderment. 

" '  Lost  it,  sur,  by  no  manes  ;  won  it,  sur,  I  maintain  —  'pon 
my  soul,  your  friend l  there  that 's  grinning  so  is  a  mighty  bad 
specimen  of  an  American  —  no,  sur,  won  it,  I  said  ;  and  now  I 
want  your  opinion  about  the  hate,  that  is,  not  the  hate,  but  the 
race,  you  know,  not,  that  is,  the  first  hate,  but  the  second  hate, 
that  would  be  the  race  when  it  was  won.' 

"  '  Why,  really,  my  dear  sir,'  replied  the  referee, '  I  don't  pre- 
cisely see  the  point  upon  which  '  - 

" '  God  bless  me,  sur !  do  ye  pretind  to  understand  horse- 
racing,  and  can't  give  a  plain  opinion  on  a  simple  matter  of 
hates  f  Now,  sur,  I  '11  explain  it  once  more.  The  stopper, 
you  are  aware,  is  my  horse,  but  the  other  horse  —  that  is,  the 
other  man's  horse,'  etc.,  etc. 

"  And  so  poor  Maseres  went  on  for  more  than  an  hour,  and 
no  one  could  tell  at  last  which  horse  it  was  that  fell ;  whether 
he  had  won  the  first  hate,  or  lost  it ;  whether  his  horse  was  the 
decanter  or  the  cork  ;  or  what  the  point  was,  upon  which  Mr. 
Maseres  wanted  an  opinion." 

1  Mr.  Stephen  Price. 


THE  PORTSMOUTH  GHOST  STORY.  105 

THE  PORTSMOUTH  GHOST  STORY. 

"  A  story  with  much  more  of  the  supernatural  about  it  was 
related  to  me  by  Mrs.  Hughes  the  other  day,  which  is,  I  think, 
one  of  the  best  authenticated  ghost  stories  in  existence.  It 
was  narrated  to  her  by  Mrs.  Hastings,  wife  of  Captain  Hast- 
ings, R.  N.,  and  ran  to  the  following  effect :  — 

"  Captain  and  Mrs.  Hastings  were  driving  into  Portsmouth 
one  afternoon,  when  a  Mr.  Hamilton,  who  had  recently  been 
appointed  to  a  situation  in  the  dockyard  there,  made  a  third  in 
their  chaise,  being  on  his  way  to  take  possession  of  his  post. 
As  the  vehicle  passed  the  end  of  one  of  the  narrow  lanes 
which  abound  in  the  town,  the  latter  gentleman,  who  had  for 
some  little  time  been  more  grave  and  silent  than  usual,  broke 
through  the  reserve  which  had  drawn  a  remark  from  the  lady, 
and  gave  the  following  reason  for  his  taciturnity  :  — 

"  '  It  was,'  said  he,  '  the  recollection  of  the  lane  we  have 
just  passed,  and  of  a  very  singular  circumstance  which  occurred 
to  me  at  a  house  in  it  some  eighteen  years  ago,  which  occupied 
my  thoughts  at  the  moment,  and  which,  as  we  are  old  friends, 
and  I  know  you  will  not  laugh  at  me,  I  will  repeat  to  you. 

"'At  the  period  alluded  to,  I  had  arrived  in  the  town  for  the 
purpose  of  joining  a  ship  in  which  I  was  about  to  proceed 
abroad  on  a  mercantile  speculation.  On  inquiry,  I  found  that 
the  vessel  had  not  come  round  from  the  Downs,  but  was  ex- 
pected every  hour.  The  most  unpleasant  part  of  the  business 
was,  that  two  or  three  king's  ships  had  just  been  paid  off  in  the 
harbor,  a  county  election  was  going  on,  and  the  town  was  filled 
with  people  waiting  to  occupy  berths  in  an  outward  bound 
fleet  which  a  contrary  wind  had  for  some  days  prevented  from 
sailing.  This  combination  of  events,  of  course,  made  Ports- 
mouth very  full  and  very  disagreeable.  To  me  it  was  partic- 
ularly annoying  as  I  was  a  stranger  in  the  place,  and  every  re- 
spectable hotel  in  the  place  was  quite  full.  After  wandering 
half  over  the  town  without  success,  I  at  length  happened  to 
inquire  at  a  tolerably  decent  looking  public-house,  situate  in 
the  lane  alluded  to,  where  a  very  civil,  though  a  very  cross 


IO6  KICHARD  HARRIS  BAR  HAM. 

looking  landlady  at  length  made  me  happy  by  the  intelligence 
that  she  would  take  me  in,  if  I  did  not  mind  sleeping  in  a 
double-bedded  room.  I  certainly  did  object  to  a  fellow-lodger, 
and  so  I  told  her,  but,  as  I  coupled  the  objection  with  an  offer 
to  pay  handsomely  for  both  beds,  though  I  should  occupy  only 
one  of  them,  our  bargain  was  settled,  and  I  took  possession  of 
my  apartment. 

••  •  When  I  retired  for  the  night  I  naturally  examined  both 
beds,  one  of  which  had  on  a  very  decent  counterpane,  the 
other  being  covered  with  a  patchwork  quilt,  coarse,  but  clean 
enough.  The  former  I  selected  for  my  own  use,  placed  my 
portmanteau  by  its  side,  and  having,  as  I  thought,  carefully 
locked  the  door  to  keep  out  intruders,  undressed,  jumped  be- 
neath the  clothes,  and  fell  fast  asleep. 

" '  I  had  slept,  1  suppose,  an  hour  or  more,  when  I  was  awak- 
ened by  a  noise  in  the  lane  below  ;  but  being  convinced  that 
it  was  merely  occasioned  by  the  breaking  up  of  a  jolly  party,  I 
was  turning  round  to  recompose  myself,  when  I  perceived,  by 
the  light  of  the  moon  which  shone  brightly  into  the  room, 
that  the  bed  opposite  was  occupied  by  a  man,  having  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  sailor.  He  was  only  partially  undressed,  having 
his  trowsers  on,  and  what  appeared,  as  well  as  I  could  make  it 
out,  to  be  a  Belcher  handkerchief,  tied  around  his  head  by  way 
of  a  nightcap.  His  position  was  half  sitting,  half  reclining  on 
the  outside  of  the  bed,  and  he  seemed  to  be  fast  asleep. 

"  '  I  was,  of  course,  very  angry  that  the  landlady  should  have 
broken  her  covenant  with  me  and  let  another  person  into  the 
room,  and  at  first  felt  half  disposed  to  desire  the  intruder  to 
withdraw  ;  but  as  the  man  was  quiet,  and  I  had  no  particular 
wish  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  night  in  an  altercation,  I' thought 
it  wiser  to  let  things  alone  till  the  morning,  when  I  determined 
to  give  my  worthy  hostess  a  good  jobation  for  her  want  of 
faith.  After  watching  him  for  some  time,  and  seeing  that  my 
chum  maintained  the  same  posture,  though  he  could  not  be 
aware  that  I  was  awake,  I  reclosed  my  eyes  and  once  more  fell 
asleep. 

" '  It  was  broad  daylight  when  I  awoke  in  the  morning,  and 


THE  PORTSMOUTH  GHOST  STORY.  \VJ 

the  sun  was  shining  full  in  through  the  window.  My  slumber- 
ing friend  apparently  had  never  moved,  for  there  he  was  still, 
half  sitting,  half  lying  on  the  quilt,  and  I  had  a  fair  opportunity 
of  observing  his  features,  which,  though  of  a  dark  complexion, 
were  not  ill-favored,  and  were  set  off  by  a  pair  of  bushy  black 
whiskers  that  would  have  done  honor  to  a  rabbi.  What  sur- 
prised me  most,  however,  was  that  I  could  now  plainly  perceive 
that  what  I  had  taken  in  the  moonlight  for  a  red  handkerchief 
on  his  forehead  was  in  reality  a  white  one,  but  quite  satu- 
•ratedin  parts  with  a  crimson  fluid,  which  trickled  down  his  left 
cheek  and  seemed  to  have  run  upon  the  pillow. 

"  '  At  the  moment  the  question  occurred  to  me  —  how  could 
the  stranger  have  procured  admission  into  the  room  ?  as  I  saw 
but  one  door,  and  that  I  felt  pretty  confident  I  had  myself 
locked  on  the  inside,  while  I  was  quite  positive  my  gentleman 
had  not  been  in  the  chamber  when  I  retired  to  bed. 

" '  I  got  out  and  walked  to  the  door,  which  was  in  the  centre 
of  one  side  of  the  room,  nearly  half-way  between  the  two 
beds  ;  and  as  I  approached  it,  one  of  the  curtains  interposed 
for  a  moment  so  as  to  conceal  my  unknown  companion  from 
my  view.  I  found  the  door,  as  I  had  supposed  it  to  have  been, 
fastened,  with  the  key  in  the  lock,  just  as  I  had  left  it,  and, 
not  a  little  surprised  at  the  circumstance,  I  now  walked  across 
to  the  farther  bed  to  get  an  explanation  from  my  comrade, 
when  to  my  astonishment  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen  !  Scarcely 
an  instant  before  I  had  observed  him  stretched  in  the  same 
position  which  he  had  all  along  maintained,  and  it  was  difficult 
to  conceive  how  he  had  managed  to  make  his  exit  so  instan- 
taneously, as  it  were,  without  my  having  perceived  or  heard 
him.  I,  in  consequence,  commenced  a  pretty  close  examina- 
tion of  the  wainscot  near  the  head  of  the  bed,  having  first  sat- 
isfied myself  that  he  was  concealed  neither  under  it  nor  by  the 
curtain.  No  door  nor  aperture  of  any  kind  was  to  be  discov- 
ered, and,  as  the  rawness  of  the  morning  air  began  by  this 
time  to  give  me  a  tolerably  strong  hint  that  it  was  time  to 
dress,  I  put  on  the  rest  of  my  clothes,  not,  however,  without  oc- 
casionally pausing  to  muse  on  the  sailor's  extraordinary  conduct. 


108  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

"  *  I  was  the  first  person  up  in  the  house  ;  a  slipshod,  ambig- 
uous being,  however,  in  whom  were  united  all  the  various  qual- 
ities and  functions  of  "  boots,"  chambermaid,  waiter,  and  pot- 
boy, soon  made  its  appearance,  and  yawning  most  terrifically 
began  to  place  a  few  cinders,  etc.,  in  a  grate  not  much  cleaner 
than  its  own  face  and  hands,  preparatory  to  the  kindling  of  a 
fire.  From  this  combination  I  endeavored  to  extract  some 
information  respecting  my  nocturnal  visitor,  but  in  vain  ;  it 
"  knowed  nothing  of  no  sailors,"  and  I  was  compelled  to  post- 
pone my  inquiries  till  the  appearance  of  the  mistress,  who- 
descended  in  due  time. 

"'After  greeting  her  with  all  the  civility  I  could  muster  — 
no  great  amount  by  the  way  as  my  anger  was  in  abeyance  only, 
not  extinct  —  1  proceeded  to  inquire  for  my  bill,  telling  her  that 
I  certainly  should  not  take  breakfast,  nor  do  anything  more, 
"for  the  good  of  the  house,"  after  her  breach  of  promise 
respecting  the  privacy  of  my  sleeping-room.  The  good  lady 
met  me  at  once  with  a  "  Marry  come  up  !  "  a  faint  flush  came 
over  her  cheek,  her  little  gray  eyes  twinkled,  and  her  whole 
countenance  gained  in  animation  what  it  lost  in  placidity. 

" '  What  did  I  mean  ?  I  had  bespoke  the  whole  room,  and 
I  had  had  the  whole  room,  and,  though  she  said  it,  there  was 
not  a  more  comfortable  room  in  all  Portsmouth  ;  she  might 
have  let  the  spare  bed  five  times  over,  and  had  refused  be- 
cause of  my  fancy ;  did  I  think  to  "  bilk  "  her  ?  and  called 
myself  a  gentleman  she  supposed  ! 

" '  I  easily  stopped  the  torrent  of  an  eloquence  that  would 
have  soon  gone  near  to  overwhelm  me,  by  depositing  a  guinea 
(about  a  fourth  more  than  her  whole  demand)  upon  the  bar, 
and  was  glad  to  relinquish  the  offensive  for  the  defensive.  It 
was  therefore  with  a  most  quaker-like  mildness-  of  expostula- 
tion that  I  rejoined,  that  certainly  I  had  not  to  complain  of 
any  actual  inconvenience  from  the  vicinity  of  my  fellow-lodger, 
but  that,  having  agreed  to  pay  double  for  the  indulgence  of 
my  whim,  if  such  she  was  pleased  to  call  it,  I  of  course  ex- 
pected the  conditions  to  be  observed  on  the  other  side  ;  but  I 
was  now  convinced  that  it  had  been  violated  without  her  pri- 


THE  PORTSMOUTH  GHOST  STORY.  109 

vity,  and  that  some  of  her  people  had  doubtless  introduced 
the  man  into  the  room,  in  ignorance  probably  of  our  under- 
standing. 

"  ' "  What  man  ?  "  retorted  she  briskly,  but  in  a  much  more 
mollified  tone  than  before  the  golden  peacemaker  had  met 
her  sight  —  "There  was  nobody  in  your  room,  unless  you  let 
him  in  yourself ;  had  you  not  the  key,  and  did  not  I  hear  you 
lock  the  door  after  you  ?  " 

" '  That  I  admitted  to  be  true  ;  "  nevertheless,"  added  I,  tak- 
ing up  my  portmanteau  and  half  turning  to  depart,  as  if  I 
were  firing  a  last  stern-chaser  at  an  enemy  whom  I  did  not 
care  longer  to  engage,  "there  certainly  was  a  man — -a  sailor 
—  in  my  room  last  night ;  though  I  know  no  more  how  he  got 
in  or  out  than  I  do  where  he  got  his  broken  head,  or  his  un- 
conscionable whiskers." 

" '  My  foot  was  on  the  threshold  as  I  ended,  that  I  might 
escape  the  discharge  of  a  reply  which  I  foreboded  would  not 
be  couched  in  the  politest  of  terms.  But  it  did  not  come,  and 
as  I  threw  back  a  parting  glance  at  my  fair  foe,  I  could  not 
help  being  struck  with  the  very  different  expression  of  her 
features  from  that  which  I  had  anticipated.  Her  attitude  and 
whole  appearance  were  as  if  the  miracle  of  Pygmalion  had 
been  reversed,  and  a  living  lady  had  been  suddenly  changed 
into  a  statue  ;  her  eyes  were  fixed,  her  cheek  pale,  her  mouth 
half  open,  while  the  fingers,  which  had  been  on  the  point  of 
closing  on  the  guinea,  seemed  arrested  in  the  very  act. 

" '  I  hesitated,  and  at  length  a  single  word,  uttered  distinctly 
but  lowly,  and  as  if  breathlessly  spoken,  fell  upon  my  ear ; 
it  was  "  WHISKERS  !  " 

" ' "  Aye,  whiskers"  I  replied  ;  "  I  never  saw  so  splendid  a 
pair  in  my  life." 

" '  "  And  a  broken —  For  Heaven's  sake  come  back  one 
moment,"  said  the  lady,  whom  I  now  perceived  to  be  laboring 
under  no  common  degree  of  agitation. 

"  '  Of  course  I  complied,  marveling  not  a  little  that  a  word, 
which  though,  according  to  Mr.  Shandy,  it  once  excited  a 
powerful  commotion  in  the  court  of  Navarre,  is  usually  very 


I  IO  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAU 

harmless  in  our  latitudes,  should  produce  so  astounding  an 
effect  on  the  sensorium  of  a  Portsmouth  landlady. 

" '  "  Let  me  entreat  you,  sir,"  said  my  hostess,  "  to  tell  me, 
without  disguise,  who  and  what  you  saw  in  your  bed-room  last 
night." 

"  i  u  j,jo  onC)  madam,"  was  my  answer,  "  but  the  sailor  of 
whose  intrusion  I  before  complained,  and  who,  I  presume, 
took  refuge  there  from  some  drunken  fray,  to  sleep  off  the 
effects  of  his  liquor,  as,  though  evidently  a  good  deal  knocked 
about,  he  did  not  appear  to  be  very  sensible  of  his  condition." 

"  '  An  earnest  request  to  describe  his  person  followed,  which 
I  did  to  the  best  of  my  recollection,  dwelling  particularly  on 
the  wounded  temple  and  the  remarkable  whiskers,  which 
formed,  as  it  were,  a  perfect  fringe  to  his  face. 

"  ' "  Then,  Lord  have  mercy  upon  me  !  "  said  the  woman,  in 
accents  of  mingled  terror  and  distress,  "it's  all  true,  and  the 
house  is  ruined  forever  !  " 

" '  So  singular  a  declaration  only  whetted  my  already  excited 
curiosity,  and  the  landlady,  who  now  seemed  anxious  to  make 
a  friend  of  me,  soon  satisfied  my  inquiries  in  a  few  words 
which  left  an  impression  no  time  will  ever  efface. 

"  'After  entreating  and  obtaining  a  promise  of  secrecy,  she 
informed  me  that,  on  the  third  evening  previous  to  my  arrival, 
a  party  of  sailors  from  one  of  the  vessels  which  were  paying 
off  in  the  harbor  were  drinking  in  her  house,  when  a  quarrel 
ensued  between  them  and  some  marines  belonging  to  another 
ship.  The  dispute  at  length  rose  to  a  great  height,  and  blows 
were  interchanged.  The  landlady  in  vain  endeavored  to  in- 
terfere, till  at  length  a  heavy  blow,  struck  with  the  edge  of  a 
pewter  pot,  lighting  upon  the  temple  of  a  stout  young  fellow 
of  five-and-twenty,  who  was  one  of  the  most  active  on  the 
side  of  the  sailors,  brought  him  to  the  ground  senseless  "and 
covered  with  blood.  He  never  spoke  again,  but,  although  his 
friends  immediately  conveyed  him  up-stairs  and  placed  him  on 
the  bed,  endeavoring  to  stanch  the  blood  2.nd  doing  all  in  their 
power  to  save  him,  he  breathed  his  last  in  a  few  minutes. 

"'In  order  to  hush   up  a  circumstance  which  could  hardly 


THE  PORTSMOUTH  GHOST  STORY.  \  \  \ 

fail,  if  known,  to  bring  all  parties  concerned  "  into  trouble,"  the 
old  woman  admitted  that  she  had  consented  to  the  body's  be- 
ing buried  in  the  garden,  where  it  was  interred  the  same  night 
by  two  of  his  comrades.  The  man  having  been  just  dis- 
charged, it  was  calculated  that  no  inquiry  after  him  was  likely 
to  take  place. 

"  ' "  But  then,  sir,"  cried  the  landlady,  wringing  her  hands, 
"  it 's  all  of  no  use.  Foul  deeds  will  rise,  and  I  shall  never 
dare  to  put  anybody  into  your  room  again,  for  there  it  was  he 
was  carried  ;  they  took  off  his  jacket  and  waistcoat,  and  tied 
his  wound  up  with  a  handkerchief,  but  they  never  could  stop 
the  bleeding  till  all  was  over  ;  and,  as  sure  as  you  are  stand- 
ing there  a  living  man,  he  is  come  back  to  trouble  us,  for  if  he 
had  been  sitting  to  you  for  his  picture,  you  could  not  have 
painted  him  more  accurately  than  you  have  done." 

"'Startling  as  this  hypothesis  of  the  old  woman's  was,  I 
could  substitute  no  better,  and  as  the  prosecution  of  the  in- 
quiry must  have  necessarily  operated  to  delay  my  voyage,  and, 
perhaps  involve  me  in  difficulties,  without  answering,  as  far  as 
I  could  see,  any  good  end,  I  walked  quietly,  though  certainly 
not  quite  at  my  ease,  down  to  the  Point ;  and  my  ship  arriv- 
ing in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  I  went  immediately  on 
board,  set  sail  the  following  morning  for  the  Mediterranean, 
and  though  I  have  been  many  years  in  England  since,  have 
never  again  set  foot  in  Portsmouth  from  that  hour  to  this.' 

"  Thus  ended  Mr.  Hamilton's  narrative. 

"  The  next  day  the  whole  party  set  out  to  reconnoitre  the 
present  appearance  of  the  house,  but  some  difficulty  was  ex- 
perienced at  first  in  identifying  it,  the  sign  having  been  taken 
down,  and  the  building  converted  into  a  greengrocer's  shop 
about  five  years  before.  A  dissenting  chapel  had  been  built 
on  the  site  of  the  garden,  but  nothing  was  said  by  their  in- 
formant of  any  skeleton  having  been  found  while  digging  for 
the  foundation,  nor  did  Mr.  Hamilton  think  it  advisable  to  push 
any  inquiries  on  the  subject.  The  old  landlady,  he  found, 
had  been  dead  several  years,  and  the  public-house  had  passed 
into  other  hands  before  the  withdrawal  of  the  license  and  its 
subsequent  conversion  to  the  present  purposes." 


112 


RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 


FUNERAL  OF  SIR  T.  LAWRENCE. 

"  Diary:  January  21,  1830. —  Attended  the  public  funeral  of 
Sir  Thomas  Lawrence.  An  immense  throng,  but  all  conducted 
with  great  order  and  splendor.  The  coffin  was  carried  into 
the  vaults,  and  brought  under  the  brass  plate  in  the  centre  of 
the  dome,  after  the  part  of  the  service  usually  performed  in 
the  choir  had  been  gone  through.  The  mourners  formed  a 
large  outer  circle,  in  the  centre  of  which,  close  round  the  plate, 
was  an  inner  one  composed  of  the  members  of  the  cathedral. 
Among  the  mourners  were  Sir  G.  Murray,  Peel,  Lord  Aber- 
deen (who  seemed  almost  frozen  while  bearing  the  pall  from 
the  west  door),  C.  Kemble,  Horace  Twiss,  Derham,  Gwilt, 
T.  Campbell,  John  Wilson  Croker,  conspicuous  in  a  black 
velvet  cap,  and  old  Nash,  the  architect,  still  more  so  in  a  Welsh 
wig.  My  poor  little  Emma  being  very  ill,  I  had  some  doubt  as 
to  going,  but  Dr.  Bowring  and  Mr.  Kothwell  with  the  Crombies 
coming,  I  was  obliged  to  conduct  them,  and  we  got  in  with  no 
little  difficulty  through  the  crowd,  already  assembled  at  twelve, 
though  the  funeral  was  not  appointed  to  take  place  till  two 
o'clock.  Dr.  Hughes,"  a  very  old  friend  of  the  deceased, 
was  so  affected  that  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  he  got 
through  the  lesson.  After  the  ceremony  the  body  was  con- 
veyed to  a  brick  grave  under  the  south  aisle,  where  it  lies, 
thus :  — 


BISHOP 
NEWTON 


SIR 

T. 

LAWKBNCK 


WEST 


GEORGE 

I  > '.  •.    BJ 
K.A. 


FUSKLI 


DAWB. 
R.  A. 


I  :  •  i  •  •. 


SIR 

JOSHI'A 

REYNOLDS 


Or  IK 


JOHN  FROST.  1 1 3 

"  Mrs.  Hughes  mentioned  to  me  a  singular  story  respect- 
ing the  deceased,  which*  she  had  from  his  intimate  friend, 

Miss  C .     This  lady  told  her,  while  in  the  gallery  during 

the  ceremony,  that  the  evening  before  his  decease  she  had 
seen  him.  He  seemed,  she  said,  a  little  out  of  spirits,  and 
asked  her  somewhat  abruptly  if  she  had  ever  heard  a  death- 
watch  ?  She  replied  that  she  had ;  on  which  he  requested 
her  to  describe  the  noise  it  made,  which  she  did.  On  hearing 
her  description  he  replied,  "  Aye,  that  is  it  exactly  !  "  and  re- 
lapsed into  a  thoughtful  silence  which  he  scarcely  broke  dur- 
ing the  rest  of  her  visit. 

JOHN  FROST. 

"  All  the  papers  of  this  date  [January,  1830]  were  full  of 
the  quarrel  between  the  Medico-Botanico  Society  and  its  Di- 
rector, as  he  was  called,  and  founder,  Mr.  John  Frost,  a  gentle- 
man remarkable  equally  for  his  modest  assurance  and  the 
high  estimate  he  had  formed  of  his  own  pretensions,  on  what 
many  persons  thought  singularly  insufficient  grounds.  The 
Royal  Society,  as  a  body,  were  unquestionably  of  this  opinion, 
as,  on  his  name  being  submitted  to  the  ballot,  he  was  almost 
unanimously  blackballed.  His  perseverance,  however,  in  beat- 
ing up  for  recruits  for  his  favorite  society  was  unparalleled. 
It  was  his  custom  to  run  about  with  a  highly  ornamented 
album  to  every  distinguished  person,  British  or  foreign,  to 
whom  he  could  by  any  possibility  introduce  himself,  inform 
them  that  they  were  elected  honorary  members  of  the  Medico- 
Botanico  Society,  and  give  a  flourishing  account  of  its  merits  ; 
and  as  one  of  the  rules  required  that  a  member  should  write 
his  own  name  in  their  book,  Mr.  F.  procured  by  these  names 
a  valuable  collection  of  autographs. 

"  The  best  of  the  joke  was,  that,  having  written  to  several 
foreign  princes  through  the  medium  of  their  ambassadors,  and 
under  Lord  Aberdeen's  government  franks,  procured  through 
the  interest  of  Lord  Stanhope,  the  President  and  head  of  the 
Society  (for  the  high-sounding  office  of  Director  was,  in  fact, 
that  of  Secretary),  he  contrived  to  get  no  less  than  a  dozen 
8 


I  14  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAA1. 

potentates  of  various  grades  to  consent  to  their  enrolment,  and 
to  acknowledge  the  compliment.  Two  indeed  of  them  —  the 
Emperor  of  the  Brazils  was  one  —  went  so  far  as  to  inclose 
the  insignia  of  one  of  their  minor  orders,  addressed  to  '  the 
Director,'  as  they  had  never  heard  of  any  higher  officer,  and 
these  Jacky  Frost,  as  he  was  commonly  called,  lost  no  time  in 
mounting  upon  his  coat,  much  to  the  annoyance  of  Lord  Stan- 
hope and  the  rest  of  the  body. 

"  It  was  determined,  in  consequence,  to  get  rid  of  Mr. 
Frost,  by  doing  away  with  the  office  of  Director  altogether ; 
the  orders,  however,  and  the  album  he  could  not  be  induced 
to  part  with.  His  honors  after  all  were  dearly  purchased,  as 
the  Royal  Humane  Society,  thinking,  perhaps,  that  it  was 
sadly  infra  dig.  for  a  chevalier  with  two  crosses  on  his  breast 
to  be  holding  the  bellows  to  the  nose  of  every  chimney- 
sweeper picked  out  of  the  Serpentine,  dismissed  him  from  the 
employment  he  held  under  them,  whereby  he  lost  2oo/.  a  year 
and  a  good  house  in  Bridge  Street. 

"  Among  the  cool  stratagems  which  he  occasionally  made 
use  of  to  procure  signatures  to  his  book,  was  one  which  he 
played  off  on  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  which,  had  it  not  been 
vouched  for  by  Mr.  Wood,  F.  R.  S.,  I  should  hardly  have  cred- 
ited. Having  failed  in  repeated  attempts  to  get  with  his 
quarto  into  Apsley  House,  he  heard  by  good  luck  that  his 
Grace,  then  Commander-in-chief,  was  about  to  hold  a  levee 
of  general  officers.  Away  posted  Jacky  to  a  masquerade 
warehouse,  and  hired  a  Lieutenant-general's  uniform,  under 
cover  of  which  he  succeeded  in  establishing  himself  fairly 
in  the  Duke's  anteroom,  among  thirteen  or  fourteen  first-rate 
Directors  of  strategetics. 

"  Everybody  stared  at  a  general  whom  nobody  knew,  and 
at  length  an  aide-de-camp,  addressing  him,  politely  requested 
to -know  his  name. 

"'What  general  shall  I  have  the  honor  of  announcing  to 
his  Grace  ? ' 

"'My  name  is  Frost,  sir.' 

•  Frost,  General  Frost !  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  really 
do  not  recollect  to  have  heard  that  name  before  ! ' 


JOHN  FROST.  1 1 5 

" '  Oh,  sir,  I  am  no  general,  I  have  merely  put  on  this  cos- 
tume as  I  understood  I  could  not  obtain  access  to  his  Grace 
without  it :  I  am  the  Director  of  the  Medico- Botanico  So- 
ciety, and  have  come  to  inform  his  Grace  that  he  has  been 
elected  a  member,  and  to  get  his  signature.' 

" '  Then,  sir,  I  must  tell  you  that  you  have  taken  a  most 
improper  method  and  opportunity  of  so  doing,  and  I  insist 
upon  your  withdrawing  immediately.' 

"  Jacky,  however,  was  too  good  a  general  to  capitulate  on 
the  first  summons,  and  he  stoutly  kept  his  ground,  notwith- 
standing a  council  of  war  at  once  began  to  deliberate  on  the 
comparative  eligibility  of  kicking  him  into  the  street,  or  giving 
him  in  charge  to  a  constable.  Luckily  for  him  the  aide-de- 
camp thought  his  Grace  had  a  right  to  a  voice  in  the  matter, 
as  the  offense  was  committed  in  his  own  house.  On  the  busi- 
ness, however,  being  mentioned  to  him,  the  hero  of  Waterloo, 
not  choosing  perhaps  to  risk  the  laurels  he  had  won  from  Na- 
poleon in  a  domestic  encounter  with  so  redoubtable  a  cham- 
pion, said,  '  Let  the  fellow  in,'  cut  short  Jacky's  oration  by 
writing  his  name  hastily  in  the  book,  and  gave  the  sign  '  to 
show  him  out  again.'  It  was  doubtful,  however,  whether  any 
other  sanctuary  than  the  house  he  was  in  would  have  shel- 
tered him  from  the  indignation  of  the  militaires  in  waiting,  at 
the  sight  of  what  they  considered  a  degradation  of  the  na- 
tional uniform. 

"  Quite  as  amusing  was  this  gentleman's  interview  with  the 
Duke  of  St.  Albans.  The  '  Director '  easily  got  his  Grace's 
consent  to  be  elected  a  member,  and  the  book  was  produced 
for  his  signature.  The  latter  took  up  a  pen,  and  commenced 
'  Du — ,'  when  he  was  interrupted  by  his  visitor,  — 

" '  No,  I  beg  pardon,  it  is  your  Grace's  title  we  require, 
written  by  your  own  hand.' 

"  '  Well,  my  title  is  Duke  of  St.  Albans,  is  it  not  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,  your  Grace,  undoubtedly,  but  your  signature  merely 
—  the  way  in  which  your  Grace  usually  signs.'  —  Here  the 
Duchess  interfered,  and  '  St.  Albans  '  was  soon  written,  in  a 
large  German-text,  school-boy  hand,  the  '£>u'  having  been 


1 1 6  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

previously  expunged  by  a  side  wipe  of  his  Grace's  forefinger. 
Mr.  Frost  bowed,  pocketed  the  subscription,  pronounced  all  to 
be  en  rigle,  congratulated  his  noble  friend  on  having  become 
a  brother  Medico-Botanico,  and  quitted  Stratton  Street  in 
high  glee. 

"  Not  long  afterwards  it  was  his  good  fortune  again  to  en- 
counter his  Grace,  on  some  public  occasion.  Of  course  he 
paid  his  respects,  and  equally  of  course  the  Duke  inquired  of 
'  Mr.  Thingumee]  as  he  called  him,  how  that  '  medical  thing  ' 
that  he  belonged  to,  went  on. 

"  '  Exceedingly  prosperous,  indeed,  my  Lord  Duke,'  was  the 
answer ;  '  we  are  increasing  both  in  numbers  and  respecta- 
bility every  day ;  I  have  got  twelve  Sovereigns  down  since 
the  commencement  of  the  present  year.' 

" '  Oh,  if  you  have  only  got  twelve  sovereigns  in  all  that 
time,  I  don't  think  you  are  getting  on  so  very  fast ;  you  know 
I  gave  you  five  guineas  of  them  myself.' " 

This  anecdote  may  easily  be  believed  of  a  duke  who  soon 
after  his  wedding  wrote  to  the  editor  of  "  Debrett's  Peerage," 
then  Mr.  Townshend,  Rouge  Dragon,  saying,  "Sir,  I  have  to 
inform  you  that  I  am  married  to  Mrs.  Coutts,  and  Mrs.  Coutts 
desires  you  will  put  it  into  your  next  edition."  This  Towns- 
hend told  me  himself. 

POETICAL  EPISTLE  TO  HIS  SON. 

Some  slight  difference  of  opinion  I  remember  to  have  arisen 
between  my  father  and  myself  respecting  the  comparative 
merits  of  the  box-seat  and  a  place  inside  the  coach,  which  was  to 
convey  me  to  Tunbridge.  My  fare  paid,  I  was  handed,  under 
protest,  into  the  interior  of  the  "  machine,"  and  on  my  naturally 
availing  myself  of  the  opportunity  offered  by  the  first  stoppage 
to  mount  the  roof,  in  which  position  I  accomplished  the  re- 
mainder of  the  journey,  some  mistake  arose  respecting  my 
identity  and  the  sum  disbursed  on  my  behalf.  Thence  ensued, 
to  my  confusion,  a  disclosure  of  the  masterly  movement  that 
had  been  effected,  and  a  consequent  remonstrance  conveyed  in 
terms  more  indulgent  than,  I  fear,  I  deserved  :  — 


POETICAL  EPISTLE   TO  HIS  SON.  \\"J 

To  R.  H.  D.  Barham. 

"St.  PAUL'S,  July  5,  18301 

"I  find,  Mister  Dick, 

That  you  've  played  me  a  trick, 
For  which  you  deserve  a  reproof — 

Not  to  say  a  reproach ; 

You  got  out  of  the  coach,. 
And  settled  yourself  on  the  roof. 

"You  knew  you  'd  a  cough, 

And  when  you  set  off, 
I  cautioned  you  as  to  your  ride, 

And  bade  you  take  care 

Of  the  damp  and  cold  air, 
And  above  all  to  keep  withinside. 

"  This  they  tell  me  that  you 

Did  not  choose  to  do, 
But  exchanged  with  some  person,  they  said  ; 

And  so  Easton  mistook 

Your  name  in  his  book, 
And  charged  you  what  he  should  have  paid. 

"  I  found  them  quite  willing 

To  refund  every  shilling, 
And  render  to  Caesar  his  due  : 

They  gave  me  back  three, 

Which  1  take  to  be 
The  overplus  forked  out  by  you. 

"  Now  don't  do  this  again ; 

Indeed,  to  be  plain, 
If  you  mount,  when  you  come  back  to  town, 

Your  namesake  the  '  Dicky,' 

I  shall  certainly  lick  ye, 
And  perhaps  half  demolish  your  crown. 

"  Mamma  means  to  inclose 

Two  white  '  wipes '  for  your  nose ; 
As  your  purse  may  be  run  rather  hard, 

I  shall  also  attack  her 

To  augment  your  exchequer 
With  a  sovereign  stuck  in  a  card. 

"  But  my  note  I  must  end  it, 
Or  't  will  be  too  late  to  send  it 


1 1 8  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

To-day,  which  I  much  wish  to  do ; 

So  remember  us  mind,  enough 

To  our  friends  who  are  kind  enough 
To  be  bored  with  such  a  nuisance  as  you. 

"  Write  as  soon  as  you  can, 

That 's  a  good  little  man, 
And  direct  your  epistle  to  me ; 

Meanwhile  I  remain. 

Till  I  see  you  again, 
Your  affectionate  sire,—  R.  H.  B." 

SYDNEY  SMITH. 

The  appointment  of  Mr.  Sydney  Smith  to  one  of  the  ca- 
nonries  of  St.  Paul's  proved  the  means  of  introducing  Mr. 
Barham  to  the  society  of  that  distinguished  individual,  and  cir- 
cumstances led  afterwards  to  a  pretty  frequent  correspondence 
between  them,  chiefly  indeed  bearing  reference  to  matters  of 
business,  but  abounding,  on  the  part  of  the  latter,  with  in- 
stances of  that  decided  spirit  and  peculiar  humor  inseparable 
from  his  writings  and  conversation.  At  first,  I  believe  Mr.  Bar- 
ham  looked  upon  the  introduction  of  the  great  Whig  wit  into 
the  chapter  with  some  feeling  of  misgiving,  but  the  tho/ough 
honesty  and  kind-heartedness  of  the  new  canon  soon  made 
themselves  manifest  to  the  apprehension  of  the  candid  ob- 
server. And  differing,  as  they  always  did  more  or  less,  in 
political  opinion,  an  appreciation  of  each  other's  worth  grad- 
ually sprang  up  sufficient  to  induce  a  greater  degree  of  in- 
timacy than  might,  under  the  circumstances,  have  been  ex- 
pected. 

The  first  appearance  of  Mr.  Smith  at  the  Cathedral,  for 
the  purpose  of  taking  possession  of  his  stall,  is  thus  briefly 
noted  :  — 

"  October  2,  1831.  —  Rev.  Sydney  Smith  read  himself  in  as 
Residentiary  at  St.  Paul's ;  dined  with  him  afterwards  at  Dr. 
Hughes's.  He  mentioned  having  once  half  offended  Sam 
Rogers  by  recommending  him,  when  he  sat  for  his  picture, 
to  be  drawn  saying  his  prayers  with  his  face  in  his  hat." 


A  NO  THEK   GHOST  STOR  Y.  1 1 9 

TOWNSEND   THE   BOW   STREET    OFFICER. 

"  Cannon  called  in  the  evening,  and  told  us  an  adventure  of 
his  with  Townsend,  the  Bow  Street  officer,  at  Brighton.  A 
little  Jew  boy  had  been  plaguing  him  the  day  before  to  buy 
pencils,  saying  that  he  had  a  sick  mother,  thirteen  brothers 
and  sisters,  and  that  his  father  was  dead,  etc.  Cannon  gave 
him  a  trifle,  but  desired  him  not  to  bother  him  again.  The 
next  day,  however,  the  little  Israelite  attacked  him  as  before, 
when  he  called  to  Townsend,  standing  on  the  Steyne,  and  told 
him  not  to  be  rough  with  the  lad,  but  to  prevent  his  continuing 
to  annoy  him. 

"  Townsend  commenced  a  regular  examination  of  the  youth. 
'  Do  you  know  Mr.  Goldsmith  ?  Do  you  know  Houndsditch  ? ' 
etc.,  till  he  made  Cannon  open  his  eyes  by  asking, '  When  were 
you  last  at  Purim  ? ' 

"  The  boy's  answer  was  satisfactory,  and  when  he  was  dis- 
missed Cannon  turned  to  the  officer  and  inquired  how  he  came 
to  know  anything  about  the  Jewish  festivals. 

" '  Why  God  blesh  you,'  says  Townsend,  '  Purim's  one  of 
these  rascals'  grand  feasts  ;  the  High  Priest  wets  his  thumb, 
and  the  fellows  fall  a  knocking  as  if  they  was  all  at  Bartle-my 
fair.  Why  blesh  your  soul  !  there  was  a  Queen  Easter,  you 
know,  once,  and  if  it  had  not  ha'  been  for  her,  all  these  scamps 
would  have  been  hanged  altogether.  Now  you  know  how  I 
respect  "  The  Establisment,"  so  you  won't  be  offended  at  what 
I  am  going  to  say,  which  is  this  —  you  remember  these 
"  Smouches  "  are  said  to  be  "  whited  sepulchres,"  well  enough 
to  look  at  outside,  but  -good  for  nothing  within  —  well,  so  they 
continues  to  be  to  this  very  day  —  and  I  'm  blessed  if  you  '11 
find  any  lead  in  that  chap's  pencils  !  '  —  The  illustration 
proved  perfectly  correct." 

ANOTHER  GHOST  STORY. 

"Diary:  November  4,  1832.  —  Mrs.  Hughes  told  me  the 
following  ghost  story.  Her  own  grandfather  had  carried  on  a 
flirtation  with  Miss  Richards  of  Compton,  one  of  the  richest 


120  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

heiresses  in  his  native  country,  but  being,  for  a  gentleman,  in 
comparatively  narrow  circumstances,  did  not  venture  to  pro- 
pose for  her;  nor  was  it  till  after  he  had  engaged  himself  to 
another  lady  that  he  discovered  the  heiress  might  have  been 
his  but  for  the  faint  heart  which  prevented  him  from  winning 
the  fair  lady.  Miss  Richards,  however,  remained  a  spinster 
for  his  sake,  formed  a  strict  intimacy  with  his  sister,  whom 
she  prevailed  upon  to  live  with  her,  and  when  he  had  children 
adopted  one  of  them  —  a  girl  —  aunt  to  the  lady  from  whom 
I  had  this  story,  and  from  whom  she  had  it. 

"At  the  death  of  her  father,  Miss  Richards  inherited, 
among  other  possessions,  the  home  farm  called  Compton 
Marsh,  which  remained  in  her  own  occupation  under  the 

management  of  a  bailiff.     This  roan,  named  John  ,  was 

engaged  to  be  married  to  a  good-looking  girl,  to  whom  he  had 
long  been  attached,  and  who  superintended  the  dairy. 

"  One  morning  Miss  Richards,  who  had  adopted  masculine 
habits,  was  going  out  with  her  greyhounds,  accompanied  by 
her  firottgee,  and  called  at  the  farm.  Both  the  ladies  were 
struck  by  the  paleness  and  agitation  evinced  by  the  dairy- 
maid. Thinking  some  lover's  quarrel  might  have  taken  place, 
the  visitors  questioned  her  strictly  respecting  the  cause  of  her 
evident  distress,  and  at  length,  with  great  difficulty,  prevailed 
upon  her  to  disclose  it. 

"  She  said  that  on  the  night  preceding  she  had  gone  to  bed 
at  her  usual  hour,  and  had  fallen  asleep,  when  she  was  awak- 
ened by  a  noise  in  her  room.  Rousing  herself  she  sat  upright 
and  listened.  The  noise  was  not  repeated,  but  between  her- 
self and  the  window,  in  the  clear  moonlight,  she  saw  John 
standing  within  a  foot  of  the  bed,  and  so  near  to  her  that  by 
stretching  out  her  hand  she  could  have  touched  him.  She 
called  out  immediately,  and  ordered  him  peremptorily  to  leave 
the  room.  He  remained  motionless,  looking  at  her  with  a  sad 
countenance,  and  in  a  low  but  distinct  tone  of  voice  bade  her 
not  be  alarmed,  as  the  only  purpose  of  his  visit  was  to  inform 
her  that  he  should  not  survive  that  day  six  weeks,  naming  at 
the  same  time  two  o'clock  as  the  hour  of  his  decease.  As  he 


A  NO  THER   GHOST  SFOf!  Y.  121 

ceased  speaking,  she  perceived  the  figure  gradually  fading,  and 
growing  fainter  in  the  moonlight,  till,  without  appearing  to 
move  away,  it  grew  indistinct  in  its  outline  and  finally  was  lost 
to  sight. 

"  Much  alarmed  she  rose  and  dressed  herself,  but  found 
everything  quite  quiet  in  the  house,  and  the  door  locked  on 
the  inside  as  usual.  She  did  not  return  to  bed,  but  had  pru- 
dence enough  to  say  nothing  of  what  she  had  seen,  either  to 
John,  or  to  any  one  else.  Miss  Richards  commended  her 
silence,  advising  her  to  adhere  to  it,  on  the  ground  that  these 
kinds  of  prophecies  sometimes  bring  their  own  completion 
along  with  them. 

"The  time  slipped  away,  and,  notwithstanding  her  unaf- 
fected incredulity,  Miss  Richards  could  not  forbear,  on  the 
morning  of  the  day  specified,  riding  down  to  the  farm,  where 
she  found  the  girl  uncommonly  cheerful,  having  had  no  return 
of  her  vision,  and  her  lover  remaining  still  in  full  health.  He 
was  gone,  she  told  the  ladies,  to  Wantage  market,  with  a  load 
of  cheese  which  he  had  to  dispose  of,  and  was  expected  back 
in  a  couple  of  hours.  Miss  Richards  went  on  and  pursued 
her  favorite  amusement  of  coursing.  She  had  killed  a  hare, 
and  was  returning  to  the  house  with  her  companion,  when 
they  saw  a  female,  whom  they  at  once  recognized  as  the  dairy- 
maid, running  with  great  swiftness  up  the  avenue  which  led 
to  the  mansion. 

"They  both  immediately  put  their  horses  to  their  speed, 
Miss  Richards  exclaiming,  '  Good  God  !  something  has  gone 
wrong  at  the  farm  ! '  The  presentiment  was  verified.  John 
had  returned  looking  pale  and  complaining  of  fatigue,  and 
soon  after  went  to  his  own  room,  saying  he  should  lie  down 
for  half  an  hour  while  the  men  were  at  dinner.  He  did  so, 
but  not  returning  at  the  time  mentioned,  the  girl  went  to  call 
him,  and  found  him  lying  dead  on  his  own  bed.  He  had  been 
seized  with  an  aneurism  of  the  heart !  " 


122  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAAf. 

THE  BEEFSTEAK  CLUB. 

"  February  9,  1833.  —  Dined,  for  the  first  time,  at  the  Beef- 
steak Club,  held  at  the  Bedford  till  the  rebuilding  of  Arnold's 
theatre.  The  members  present  were  Mr.  Lewin  (in  the  chair), 
Stephenson  (vice),  the  Duke  of  Leinster,  Lord  Saltoun,  Sir 
Andre*  Barnard,  Sir  Ronald  Ferguson,  Sir  John  Cam  Hob- 
house,  Messrs.  Hallett,  Peake,  Linley,  and  Arnold.  All  very 
amusing.  Jokes  of  Lord  Alvanley  mentioned.  At  the  late 
feteiA.  Hatfield  House,  tableaux  vivants  were  among  the  chief 
amusements,  and  scenes  from  'Ivanhoe'  were  among  the 
selections.  All  the  parts  were  filled  up  but  that  of  Isaac  of 
York.  Lady  Salisbury  begged  Lord  Alvanley  'to  make  the 
set  complete  by  doing  the  Jew.'  '  Anything  in  my  power  your 
ladyship  may  command,'  replied  Alvanley,  '  but  though  no 
man  in  England  has  tried  oftener,  I  never  could  do  a  Jew  in 
my  life.' 

"  He  half  affronted  Mr.  Greville,  with  whom  he  was  dining. 
The  dining-room  had  been  newly  and  splendidly  furnished, 
whereas  the  dinner  was  but  a  very  meagre  and  indifferent  one. 
While  some  of  the  guests  were  flattering  their  host  on  his  taste, 
magnificence,  etc.,  '  For  my  part,'  said  his  lordship,  '  I  had 
rather  have  seen  less  gilding  and  more  carving.' " 

Of  the  Mr.  Samuel  Arnold  just  mentioned,  Mr.  Barbara 
observes  elsewhere :  "  I  first  met  him  at  Hawes's,  several 
years  before  the  institution  of  the  '  Garrick,'  where  he  was  a 
member  of  the  committee  at  the  same  time  with  myself.  I 
encountered  him  the  morning  after  his  theatre  (the  English 
Opera-house,  afterwards  the  Lyceum)  was  burnt  down,  by 
which  he  lost  6o,ooo/.,  and  never  saw  a  man  meet  misfortune 
with  so  much  equanimity.  His  new  theatre,  which  was  raised 
by  subscription  completely  failed,  and  when  Osbaldiston  took 
Covent  Garden  in  1835,  and  reduced  the  admission  to  the  boxes 
to  four  shillings,  Arnold  reduced  his  price  to  two,  but  this 
did  not  succeed,  while  the  property  was  materially  depre- 
ciated by  the  measure.  Arnold  was  one  of  the  leading  mem- 
bers of  the  Beefsteak  Club  where  he  was  called  '  the  Bishop.' " 


SUETTS  FUNERAL.  123 

DENIALS  OF  AUTHORSHIP. 

To  authors'  oaths,  as  well  as  those  of  lovers,  Jove,  it  is  to 
be  hoped,  is  particularly  indulgent ;  for,  assuredly,  whatever 
amount  of  affirmative  perjury  may  be  incurred  by  the  latter,  it 
is  to  the  full  paralleled  by  the  ample  negations  put  forth  by  the 
former.  Southey  distinctly  denied  the  authorship  of  "  The 
Doctor."  But,  perhaps,  a  greater  degree  of  "  nerve  "  was  ex- 
hibited by  Mr.  Sydney  Smith,  who,  positively  disowning  all 
connection  with  the  "  Plymley  Letters  "  in  one  edition,  actu- 
ally published  them  in  a  collection  of  his  acknowledged  works 
some  few  months  after.  The  mystery  that  hung  so  long  around 
the  Wizard  of  the  North  is  yet  more  notorious  ;  the  anecdote 
which  follows  may  serve  to  show  the  anxiety  of  the  "  Great 
Unknown  "  to  preserve  his  incognito  :  — 

"February  II,  1833.  —  Dined  with  Sir  George  Warrender  at 
his  house  in  Albemarle  Street.  Met  Lord  Saltoun,  John  Wil- 
son Croker,  Sir  Andrew  Barnard,  Mr.  Barrow  of  the  Admiralty, 
John  Murray,  the  publisher,  Mr.  Littleton,  Sir  Charles  Bagot, 
Mr.  Lee,  an  artist,  Francis  Mills,  and  James  Smith. 

"  Murray  told  me  that  Sir  Walter  Scott,  on  being  taxed  by 
him  as  the  author  of  '  Old  Mortality,'  not  only  denied  having 
written  it,  but  added,  '  In  order  to  convince  you  that  I  am  not 
the  author,  I  will  review  the  book  for  you  in  the  "  Quarterly  " 
—  which  he  actually  did,  and  Murray  still  has  the  MS.  in 
his  handwriting. 

SUETT'S  FUNERAL. 

"Diary:  March  24,  1834.  —  Dined  at  the  '  Garrick  ; '  Mr. 
Williams,  the  banker,  in  the  chair,  Fladgate,  croupier,  Charles 
Mathews  (the  father),  E.  Parrott,  Westmacott,  the  sculptor, 
Mortimer  Drummond,  T.  Clarke,  Tom  Hill,  J.  R.  Durrant,  W. 
Beloe,  myself,  and  John  Murray.  We  twelve  were  seated 
when  Hook  arrived.  He  looked  at  first  very  blank  on  finding 
himself  the  thirteenth,  but  being  told  that  Charles  Young  the 
actor  was  expected  immediately  took  his  seat,  and  we  had  a 
very  pleasant  evening.  C.  Mathews  gave  a  very  amusing  ac- 
count of  poor  Dicky  Suett's  funeral  which  he  had  attended  as 


124  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

a  mourner.  Suett  lies  buried  in  St.  Paul's  Church-yard,  in  the 
burial-ground  belonging  to  St.  Faith,  nearly  opposite  the  shop 
of  Dollond  the  optician,  and  just  within  the  rails.  Suett  had 
been  brought  up  originally  as  a  boy  in  the  choir.  Mathews 
and  Captain  Caulfield  (whom  I  have  often  seen  perform,  and 
whose  personation  of  Suett,  Mathews  said,  was  much  more 
perfect  than  his  own)  were  in  the  same  coach  with  Jack  Ban- 
ister and  Palmer.  The  latter  sat  wrapt  up  in  angry  and  in- 
dignant silence  at  the  tricks  which  the  two  younger  mourners 
(who,  by  the  way,  had  known  but  little  of  Suett,  and  were  in- 
vited out  of  compliment)  were  playing  off  ;  but  Banister,  who 
was  much  affected  by  the  loss  of  his  old  friend,  nevertheless 
could  not  refrain  from  laughing  occasionally  in  the  midst  of 
his  grief  and  while  the  tears  were  actually  running  from  his 
eyes.  Mr.  Whittle,  commonly  called  'Jemmy  Whittle,'  of  the 
firm  of  Laurie  and  Whittle,  stationers,  in  Fleet  Street,  was  an 
old  and  intimate  friend  of  Suett's.  As  the  procession  ap- 
proached, he  came  and  stood  at  his  own  door  to  look  at  it, 
when  Caulfield  called  out  to  him  from  the  mourning-coach  in 
Suett's  voice, 

"  '  Aha  !  Jemmy  —  O  la  !  I  'm  going  to  be  buried  !  O  la  ! 
O  lawk  !  O  dear  ! ' 

"  Whittle  ran  back  into  the  house  absolutely  frightened. 
Similar  scenes  took  place  the  whole  of  the  way.  The  burial 
service  was  read,  when,  just  as  the  clergyman  had  concluded 
it,  an  urchin  seated  on  a  tombstone  close  by  the  rails  began 
clapping  his  hands.  The  whole  company  were  struck  by  this 
singular  conclusion  to  a  theatrical  funeral ;  but  the  boy  when 
questioned  and  taken  to  task  for  the  indecency  said,  — 

"  '  La  !  there  was  only  them  two  dogs  outside  as  wanted  to 
fight,  and  was  afraid  to  begin,  so  I  did  it  to  set  'em  on.' 

"  Mathews  also  gave  a  very  entertaining  account  of  his  hav- 
ing been  recommended  by  Mr.  Lowdham,  a  member  of  the 
club,  to  stop  at  a  particular  inn  in  Nottingham,  when  upon  his 
last  theatrical  tour.  He  found  it,  however,  quite  a  third-rate 
inn,  and  could  get  no  attendance.  Half  a  dozen  different  peo- 
ple successively  answered  the  bell  when  he  rang,  stared  at 


"MY  COUSIN  NICHOLAS."  12$ 

him,  said  '  Yes,  sir  ! '  and  went  away  ;  nor  could  he  get  any 
one  to  show  him  into  a  private  room,  though  he  had  bespoken 
one.  At  last  a  great  lubberly  boy  came  blubbering  into  the 
room,  when  Mathews  addressed  him  very  angrily  :  — 

"  M.  —  When  am  I  to  have  my  private  room  ? 

"  Boy.  —  We  ha'n't  got  none  but  one,  and  that 's  bespoke 
for  Mathews  the  player. 

"  M.  —  Well,  I  am  Mathews  the  player,  as  you  call  him. 

"  Boy.  —  Oh,  then  you  may  come  this  way  ! 

"  He  was  ushered  at  length  into  a  room  with  a  fire  just 
lighted,  and  full  of  smoke  ;  still  there  was  nothing  to  be  got 
to  eat,  while  Mathews,  who  had  travelled  between  forty  and 
fifty  miles  that  day,  was  very  hungry. 

" M.  —  Send  me  up  the  master  of  the  house!  Where  is 
the  master  ? 

"  Boy.  — He  's  dead,  sir  ! 

"  M.  —  Then  send  the  mistress. 

"  Boy.  —  Mother  's  gone  out ! 

"  M.  —  Well,  do  let  me  have  something  to  eat  at  all  events  ; 
can  you  get  me  a  mutton  chop  ? 

"  Boy.  —  Not  till  mother  comes  home. 

"  M. —  Well,  then,  some  cold  meat  —  anything.  Confound 
it,  boy,  have  you  got  nothing  in  the  house  ? 

"Boy.  —  Yes,  sir! 

"  Well,  what  is  it  then  ? 

"  Here  the  poor  boy  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears  and  blub- 
bered out  —  '  An  execution,  sir  ! ' 

"  Late  in  the  evening  Young  did  come,  and  sang  with  great 
taste  and  feeling  Sheridan's 'When  'tis  Night.'  Hook  im- 
provised, as  usual  with  him,  on  the  company,  but  was  not  al- 
together so  happy  as  I  have  sometimes  heard  him." 

"  MY  COUSIN  NICHOLAS." 

The  completion  and  publication  of  "  My  Cousin  Nicholas  " 
were  immediately  owing  to  the  kindly  interference  of  Mrs. 
Hughes.  Having  read  "  Baldwin,"  and  having  learnt  that 
another  tale  was  lying  unfinished  in  Mr.  Barham's  desk,  she 


126  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

prevailed  upon  him  to  lend  her  the  manuscript.  So  favorable 
was  her  opinion  of  its  merits  that  without  more  ado  she  sub- 
mitted it  to  the  inspection  of  Mr.  Black  wood,  and  the  first  in- 
timation the  author  received  of  the  circumstance  was  conveyed 
in  the  shape  of  a  packet  containing  the  proof-sheets  of  the 
opening  chapters.  As  his  zealous  friend  had  pledged  her 
word  for  the  continuation  of  the  work  all  retreat  was  cut  off  ; 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  diligently  to  take  the  matter  in 
hand,  and  endeavor  to  surmount  those  obstacles  that  had 
caused  him  to  lay  his  pen  aside.  Whatever  the  difficulties 
may  have  been,  they  were  speeeily  overcome,  "  My  Cousin's  " 
adventures  were  carried  on  monthly  with  spirit,  and  the  catas- 
trophe was  worked  up  in  a  manner  that  certainly  brought  no 
discredit  on  the  earlier  portions  of  the  novel. 

Mr.  Barham  always  asserted  that  he  was  singularly  de- 
ficient in  the  faculty  of  invention.  "  Give  me  a  story  to  tell," 
he  would  say,  "  and  I  can  tell  it,  in  my  own  way ;  but  I  can't 
invent  one  ! "  and  although  "  My  Cousin  Nicholas  "  might,  I 
think,  be  fairly  cited  as  a  witness  to  the  injustice  of  the  dis- 
claimer, there  is  no  doubt  that  the  character  of  his  hero's  es- 
capades was  suggested  by  an  event  which  occurred  in  the  life 
of  the  author's  father,  and  which  the  former  once  thought  of 
producing  under  the  title  of  "  My  Grandfather's  Knocker !' ' 
The  circumstances,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect  them,  were  as 
follows :  — 

Somewhere  about  a  century  ago,  rather  more  than  less, 
Richard  Barham,  of  Farmstead,  became  by  marriage  the 
owner  of  some  property  —  principally  hop-gardens  —  lying 
in  close  vicinity  to  Canterbury,  and  also  of  a  large  red-brick 
house  situated  within  the  city  walls.  It  is,  I  believe,  still  in 
existence,  inclosed  by  its  high  garden  walls,  above  which  the 
tops  of  a  few  trees  look  down  refreshingly  upon  the  narrow 
streets  of  Burgate.  But  in  addition  to  house  and  land,  Mrs. 
Barham  brought  her  husband  in  due  time  a  son  and  heir  — 
Richard  Harris,  the  father  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir. 
Having  reached  man's  estate,  Richard  Harris  declined  longer 
residence  in  the  red-brick  house  —  which  was  only  occasion- 


"MY  COUSIN  NICHOLAS:'  127 

ally  inhabited  by  his  father,  who  spent  a  good  deal  of  his  time 
at  Tapton  Wood  —  and  set  up  a  bachelor's  establishment  for 
himself.  One  morning  the  elder  gentleman,  who  seems  to 
have  been  of  a  peppery  turn,  was  roused  to  fury  by  the  dis- 
appearance of  a  magnificent  brass  knocker  which  had  hitherto 
formed  the  glory  of  his  front  door.  It  had  clearly  been 
wrenched  off  in  the  course  of  the  night,  by  way  of  a  "spree," 
as  this  lively  diversion  afterwards  came  to  be  called.  Mr. 
Barham,  senior,  raved  ;  Mr.  Barham,  junior,  condoled  ;  both 
were  indignant.  But  nothing  came  of  raving,  condolence,  or 
indignation  !  The  offender  could  not  be  punished,  for  the 
offender  could  not  be  found,  and  so  by  degrees  the  offense 
dropped  out  of  memory.  It  chanced,  some  time  after,  that 
on  a  certain  day  the  old  gentleman  rode  in  from  the  country, 
and,  not  disposed  to  spend  the  evening  alone  in  his  own  rather 
gloomy  mansion,  he  betook  him  to  the  lodging  of  his  son. 
Richard  Harris  was  of  course  delighted  to  see  his  father,  and 
taxed  his  resources  to  the  uttermost  in  the  endeavor  to  enter- 
tain him.  Dinner  was  discussed,  and  after  dinner  a  liberal 
allowance  of  port  wine,1  and  then,  according  to  the  fashion  of 
the  age,  preparations  were  made  for  winding  up  the  feast  with 
a  bowl  of  punch.  "  The  materials  "  were  at  hand,  and  availa- 
ble—  all  save  the  sugar,  and  the  sugar  was  in  large  refractory 
lumps  that  defied  ordinary  manipulation.  The  housekeeper 
was  accordingly  summoned,  and  desired  to  reduce  a  sufficient 
quantity  of  the  "  best  loaf  "  to  powder.  Quietly  proceeding 
to  a  cupboard  in  the  room,  the  woman  provided  herself  with 
an  implement  which,  if  not  expressly  constructed  for  the  pur- 
pose of  trituration,  was  evidently  well  enough  adapted  to  it, 

1  I  am  not  speaking  at  hap-hazard  here.  My  grandfather  always  drank  a  bottle 
of  port  wine  a  day.  The  doctors  interfered  at  last  when  his  bulk  became  enormous 
and  limited  him  to  a  pint.  "  Well,  said  he,  "  if  I  am  to  have  only  a  pint,  a  pint  it 
shall  be  ;  I  will  not  be  fobbed  off  with  one  of  those  abominations  that  contain  little 
more  than  a  half."  And  so,  anticipating  the  Imperial  measure  movement,  he  had  a 
number  of  bottles  made  expressly  for  him,  holding  each  a  legitimate  pint.  A  few 
of  these  with  his  cipher  stamped  upon  the  shoulder  I  still  possess.  One  pint  of 
wine,  however,  he  found  scarcely  sufficient,  and  so  he  tried  two,  thus,  in  place  of 
reducing  his  former  allowance  by  half,  increased  it  by  about  a  third.  They  argued 
with  him,  but  he  persisted  in  his  opinion  that  two  pints  were  equal  to  one  bottle, 
and  that  one  bottle  of  port  could  not  hurt  any  man.  He  died  at  forty-eight. 


128  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARffAM. 

and  commenced  pounding  away.  The  old  gentleman  raised 
his  eyes  at  the  noise,  then  sprang  to  his  feet,  then  fired  off 
expression  after  expression  of  a  sort  that  no  old  gentleman 
ought  to  fire  off.  It  must,  however,  be  admitted  that  the 
provocation  was  not  a  slight  one,  for  there  was  the  solution 
of  the  mystery  —  there  in  calm  complacency  was  his  son's 
cook  hammering  away  at  the  loaf  sugar  with  the  desecrated 
brass  knocker  of  which  he  had,  so  heartlessly  bereaved  !  Mr. 
Barham  senior  left  the  house  immediately,  would  listen  to  no 
excuses,  but  executed  a  fresh  will  forthwith,  leaving  his  prop- 
erty to  be  divided  between  his  two  daughters,  and  refused  to 
hold  any  further  communication  with  his  truly  penitent  son. 
The  alienation  lasted  for  a  year  or  two.  Then  at  length  the 
remonstrances  of  friends  prevailed,  and  forgiveness  was  ex- 
tended, I  am  exceedingly  happy  to  say,  to  my  too  mercurial 
grandfather. 

Of  the  minor  characters  presented  in  the  novel,  one  at  least 
was  taken  from  the  life.  There  are  doubtless  many  Oxford 
men  yet  living  who  can  remember  "  Doctor  Toe,"  as  from  a 
peculiarity  of  his  gait  he  was  nicknamed,  the  Dean  of  Brase- 
nose,  and  the  hero  of  Reginald  Heber's  "  Whippiad."  Not 
only  defeated  in  battle  within  his  very  stronghold  — 

"Where  whitened  Cain  the  wrath  of  Heaven  defies, 
And  leaden  slumbers  close  his  brother's  eyes, 
Where  o'er  the  porch  in  brazen  splendor  glows 
Tlie  vast  projection  of  the  mystic  noscj" 

but  —  more  bitter  humiliation  still  —  jilted  in  love,  deserted 
by  his  affianced  bride,  who  ran  off  with  her  father's  footman, 
the  unfortunate  doctor  formed  the  subject  of  a  number  of  Uni- 
versity squibs,  and  among  them  of  an  epigram  worth  repeat- 
ing: 

'Twixt  Footman  John  and  Doctor  Toe 

A  rivalship  befell, 
Which  of  the  two  should  be  the  beau 

To  bear  away  the  belle. 

"The  Footman  won  the  lady's  heart, 

And  who  can  blame  her  ?     No  man  — 
The  whole  prevailed  against  a  part, 
T  was  Fiat-ma*  vrrtta  Tot-man  !  " 


WILLIAM  LINLEY.  129 

The  burlesque  personification  of  "  Doctor  Toe  "  is  said  to 
have  been  actually  perpetrated  by  an  ancestor  of  the  present 
Lord  Lyttleton.  And  again,  the  denial  of  his  father  by  Nicho- 
las —  an  incident  subsequently  introduced  by  Mr.  Boucicault 
in  his  popular  comedy  of  "  London  Assurance  "  —  is  no  fiction, 
but  owes  its  origin  to  a  similar  prank  played  by  the  well-known 
humorist,  Bonnell  Thornton. 

WILLIAM  LINLEY. 

'•'•Diary  :  May,  1834.  —  William  Linley,  brother  to  the  first 
Mrs.  Sheridan,  though  a  man  of  the  world,  and  a  member  of 
the  celebrated  '  Beefsteak  Club,'  the  hoaxing  propensities  of 
whose  members  are  so  proverbial,  was  a  man  of  great  good- 
nature and  still  greater  simplicity  of  mind.  He  always  occu- 
pied a  particular  table  at  the  '  Garrick,'  and,  though  a  general 
favorite,  was  somewhat  too  fond  of  reciting  long  speeches 
from  various  authors,  generally  Shakespeare.  It  was  one  day 
in  this  month  that  he  had  begun  to  spout  from  the  opening 
scene  in  '  Macbeth,'  and  would  probably  have  gone  through  it 
if  I  had  not  cut  him  short  at  the  third  line  — 

'When  the  hurly-burly 's  done," 

with  '  What  on  earth  are  you  talking  about  ?  Why,  my  dear 
Linley,  it  is  astonishing  that  a  man  so  well  read  in  Shake- 
speare as  yourself  should  adopt  that  nonsensical  reading  ! 
What  is  l  hurly-burly^1  pray  ?  There  is  no  such  word  in  the 
language  ;  you  can't  find  an  allusion  to  it  in  Johnson.'  Lin- 
ley, whose  veneration  for  Dr.  Johnson  was  only  inferior  to 
that  which  he  entertained  for  the  great  poet  himself,  said,  — 

" '  Indeed  !  are  you  sure  there  is  not  ?  What  can  be  the  rea- 
son of  the  omission  ?  The  word,  you  see,  is  used  by  Shake- 
speare.' 

"  '  No  such  thing,'  was  the  reply  ;  '  it  appears  so  indeed  in  one 
or  two  early  editions,  but  it  is  evidently  mistranscribed.  The 
second  folio  is  the  best  and  most  authentic  copy,  and  gives  the 
true  reading,  though  the  old  nonsense  is  still  retained  upon 
the  stage  ! ' 

9 


130  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

"  '  Indeed,  and  pray  what  do  you  call  the  true  reading  ? ' 
" '  Why,  of  course,  the  same  that  is  followed  by  Johnson  and 
Steevens  in  the  edition  up-stairs  :  — 

"  When  the  tarly  furl  is  done  ;  " 

that  is,  when  we  have  finished  our  "  early  purl,"  /.  e.  directly 
after  breakfast.' 

"  Linley  was  startled,  and  after  looking  steadily  at  me  to  see 
if  he  could  discover  any  indication  of  an  intention  to  hoax  him, 
became  quite  puzzled  by  the  gravity  of  my  countenance,  and 
only  gave  vent  in  a  hesitating  tone,  half-doubtful,  half-indig- 
nant, to  the  word  '  Nonsense  ! ' 

"'  Nonsense  ?  It  is  as  I  assure  you.  We  will  send  for  the 
book,  and  see  what  Steevens  says  in  his  note  upon  the  pas- 
sage.' 

"  The  book  was  accordingly  sent  for,  but  I  took  good  care  to 
intercept  it  before  it  reached  the  hands  of  Linley,  and  taking 
it  from  the  servant  pretended  to  read  from  the  volume  — 

'  When  the  hurly-burly  's  done. 

'  Some  copies  have  it,  "  When  the  early  purl  is  done  ;  "  and  I 
am  inclined  to  think  this  reading-  the  true  one,  if  the  well- 
known  distich  be  worthy  of  credit  — 

"  Hops,  reformation,  turkeys,  and  beer, 
Came  to  England  all  in  one  year/' 

This  would  seem  to  fix  the  introduction  of  beer,  and  conse- 
quently of  early  purl,  into  the  country  to  about  that  period  of 
Henry  VII I. 's  reign  when  he  intermarried  with  Anne  Boleyn, 
the  mother  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  Shakespeare's  great  friend  and 
patroness,  and  to  whom  this  allusion  may  perhaps  have  been 
intended  by  the  poet  as  a  delicate  compliment.  Purl,  it  is 
well  known,  was  a  favorite  beverage  at  the  English  court  dur- 
ing the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century  ;  and  from  the  ep- 
ithet then  affixed  to  it  "early,"  an  adjunct  which  it  still  retains, 
was  no  doubt  in  common  use  for  breakfast  at  a  time  when  the 
China  trade  had  not  yet  made  our  ancestors  familiar  with  the 
produce  of  the  tea-plant.  Theobald's  objection,  that,  whatever 


WILLIAM  LINLEY.  '    131 

may  have  been  the  propriety  of  its  introduction  at  the  court  of 
Elizabeth,  the  mention  made  of  it  at  that  of  Macbeth  would  be 
a  gross  anachronism,  may  be  at  once  dismissed  as  futile. 
Does  not  Shakespeare,  in  the  very  next  scene,  talk  of 

"Cannons  overcharged  with  double  cracks ? " 

and  is  not  allusion  made  by  him  to  the  use  of  the  same  bever- 
age at  the  court  of  Denmark,  at  a  period  coeval,  or  nearly  so, 
with  that  under  consideration  — 

"  Hamlet,  this  purl  is  thine? " ' 

"  '  But,  dear  me  ! '  broke  in  Linley,  '  that  is  pearl,  not  purl. 
I  remember  old  Packer  used  to  hold  up  a  pearl,  and  let  it  drop 
into  the  cup.' 

"  '  Sheer  misconception  on  the  part  of  a  very  indifferent 
actor,  my  dear  Linley,  be  assured.' 

"  Here  Beazley,  who  was  present,  observed,  '  "Early  purl  "  is 
all  very  well,  but  my  own  opinion  has  always  leaned  to  War- 
burton's  conjecture  that  a  political  allusion  is  intended.  He 
suggests 

"  When  the  Earl  of  Burleigh  's  done  ;  " 

that  is,  when  we  have  "  done,"  /".  e.,  cheated  or  deceived,  the 
Earl  of  Burleigh,  a  great  statesman,  you  know,  in  Elizabeth's 
time,  and  one  whom,  to  use  a  cant  phrase  among  ourselves, 
'  you  must  get  up  very  early  in  the  morning  to  take  in  !  " 

" '  But  what  had  Macbeth  or  the  witches  to  do  with  the 
Earl  of  Burleigh  ?  Stuff  !  nonsense  ! '  said  Linley,  indig- 
nantly. And  though  .Beazley  made  a  good  fight  in  defense 
of  his  version,  yet  his  opponent  would  not  listen  to  it  for  an 
instant. 

"'No,  no,' he  continued,  'the  Earl  of  Burleigh  is  all  rub- 
bish, but  there  may  be  something  in  the  other  reading.' 

"  And  as  the  book  was  closed  directly  the  passage  had  been 
repeated,  and  was  replaced  immediately  on  the  shelf,  the  un- 
suspicious critic  went  away  thoroughly  mystified,  especially  as 
Tom  Hill,  for  whose  acquaintance  with  early  English  litera- 
ture he  had  a  great  respect,  confirmed  the  emendation  with 


132  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAU. 

" '  "  Early  purl  !  "  Pooh  !  pooh  !  to  be  sure  it  is  "  early 
purl ; "  I  've  got  it  so  in  two  of  my  old  copies.'  " 

HAYNES  BAYLEY. 

Nothing  on  earth,  by  the  way,  is  so  soothing  as  that  gentle- 
man's verses  ;  but  that  he  would  be  thought-  a  plagiarist,  I 
think  Nicholas  might  do  a  little  in  that  way,  to  the  tune  of 
"  Oh,  no  !  we  never  mention  him,"  etc. 

"  They  say  tliat  I  am  silent,  and  my  silence  they  condemn, 
For  oh !  although  they  talk  to  me,  I  never  talk  to  them ! 
I  heed  not  what  they  think,  although  I  know  'tis  thought  by  some 
That  I  am  dumb  or  deaf,  but  oh !   I  'm  neither  deaf  nor  dumb ! 

"  They  say  I  'm  looking  sick  and  pale ;  and  well  indeed  they  may  ; 
They  tell  me,  too,  that  I  am  sad ;  I  'm  anything  but  gay ! 
They  smile  —  but  oh !  the  more  they  smile,  the  more,  alas !   I  sigh ; 
And  when  they  strive  to  make  me  laugh,  I  turn  me  round  and  cry  I 

"  They  bid  me  sing  the  song  I  sung,  as  I  have  sung  before, 
The  song  I  sung  no  more  I  sing  —  my  Ringing  days  are  o'er ! 
They  bid  me  play  the  fiddle,  too  —  my  fiddle  it  is  mute ! 
Nor  can  I,  as  I  used  to  do,  blow  tunes  upon  the  flute! 

*  The  feeling  fain  would  soothe  my  woe,  the  heartless  say  I  sham ; 
The  ribald  mnck  my  grief,  and  call  me  —  Sentimental  Saml 
They  cannot  guess  what  't  is  I  want  —  There  's  few  indeed  that  can  : 
I  want  — 
I  want  — 
I  want  to  be  a  butterfly,  and  flutter  round  a  fan  !  " 

"GETTING  A  LITTLE  FISHING." 

During  the  months  of  June  and  July,  1834,  Mr.  Barham 
spent  his  summer  holidays  at  Strand-on-Green,  where  he  had 
engaged  a  snug  little  cottage.  Hanwell  was  his  usual  retreat, 
his  duties  rarely  allowing  him  to  select  one  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  great  bell  of  Paul's ;  but  this  year  he  pitched  upon 
Strand-on-Green,  with  some  design,  I  believe,  of  "getting  a 
little  fishing."  And  for  the  first  week  or  two  attempts  were 
occasionally  made  upon  the  wary  gudgeons  of  Kew,  but  the 
expedition  generally  ended  in  some  grave  piscatorial  disaster 
—  the  line  became  inextricably  tangled  in  a  worse  than  Gor- 


LINES  LEFT  AT  HOOK'S  HOUSE.  133 

dian  knot,  or  the  hooks  got  foul,  and  had  to  be  extracted  by 
a  surgical  operation  from  calf  or  coat-tail,  or  the  worms  broke 
loose  and  buried  themselves  in  inaccessible  corners  of  the 
waistcoat  pocket ;  and  then  rods  and  winches  would  be  packed 
up,  and  the  pleasure  of  the  day  began  in  earnest.  At  times, 
but  not  without  expression  of  utter  distrust  of  my  competency 
as  a  waterman,  he  would  permit  me  to  scull  him  about  the 
river,  and  one  afternoon,  on  our  finding  ourselves  opposite  the 
house  of  Theodore  Hook  at  Fulham,  he  determined  to  land 
and  make  a  call  on  his  friend.  Hook  was  not  at  home  ;  so, 
having  no  card  with*  him,  Mr.  Barham  asked  for  pen  and 
paper,  and  while  standing  in  the  hall  scribbled  off,  in  as  short 
a  time  as  the  reader  would  take  to  copy  them,  the  follow- 
ing:— 

LINES  LEFT  AT  HOOK'S  HOUSE  IN  JUNE,  1834. 

"  As  Dick  and  I 

Were  a  sailing  by 

At  Fulham  Bridge,  I  cocked  my  eye, 
•  And  says  I,  '  Add-zooks! 

There  's  Theodore  Hook's, 
Whose  Sayings  and  Doings  make  such  pretty  books. 

"  '  I  wonder,'  says  I, 

Still  keeping  my  eye 

On  the  house,  '  if  he  's  in  —  I  should  like  to  try ; ' 
With  his  oar  on  his  knee, 
Says  Dick,  says  he, 
*  Father,  suppose  you  land  and  see ! ' 

"  'What!  land  and  sea,' 

Says  I  to  he  ; 

'  Together !  why,  Dick,  why  how  can  that  be  ?' 
And  my  comical  son, 
Who  is  fond  of  fun, 
I  thought  would  have  split  his  sides  at  the  pun. 

"  So  we  rows  to  shore, 

And  knocks  at  the  door  — 
When  William,  a  man  I  'd  seen  often  before, 

Makes  answer  and  says, 
'  Master 's  gone  in  a  chaise 
Called  a  homnibus,  drawn  by  a  couple  of  bays.' 


134  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

"  So  I  say*  then, 
'  Just  lend  me  a  pen  ;  ' 

*  I  wull,  sir,'  says  William  —  politest  of  men,1 
So  having  no  card,  these  poetical  brayings 
Are  the  record  I  leave  of  my  doings  and  sayings. '  " 

ANECDOTES  OF  TALLEYRAND. 

"  Diary  :  August  26,  1834.  —  Party  at  Williams's.  Mac- 
ready,  Jerdan,  etc.  Abbot  had  just  disappeared,  an  execution 
having  been  put  into  the  Victoria  Theatre  by  Randle  Jackson. 
Talleyrand  spoken  of  as  '  having  a  cold  gray  eye  and  perfect 
impassibility  of  feature.'  He  being  asked  if  Sebastiani  was  not 
a  relative  of  Napoleon,  answered,  '  Yes,  while  he  was  em- 
peror; not  now!'  Meeting  the  Duke  of  Wellington  on  his 
return  from  his  installation  as  Chancellor  of  Oxford,  he  (Tal- 
leyrand) told  him  that  he  was  now  covered  with  glory  ;  adding 
that  no  doubt  they  would  end  by  making  him  a  bishop  ;  '  Vous 
finissez  oil  fai  commend  ! ' ' 

BON  MOT  OF  POWER'S. 

"  Macready  told  a  story  of  George  B the  actor,  who,  it 

seems,  is  not  popular  in  the  profession,  being  considered  a 
sort  of  time-server :  '  There  goes  Georgius,'  said  some  one. 
'  Not  Georgium  Sidus,'  replied  Keeley  ;  '  Yes,'  added  Power, 
'  Georgium  Any-s\dus.'  " 

SYDNEY  SMITHISMS. 

"Diary:  November  16,  1834.  —  Dined  with  Sydney  Smith. 
He  said  that  his  brother  Robert  had,  in  George  III.'s  time, 
translated  the  motto,  Libertas  sub  rege  pin,  '  The  pious  King 
has  got  liberty  under  ; '  also,  that  he  had  originally  proposed  to 
Jeffrey,  Horner,  and  Brougham,  as  a  motto  for  the  '  Edinburgh 
Review,'  Mtisam  meditamur  avend,  '  We  cultivate  literature 
on  a  little  oatmeal.' 

1  This  proved  eventually  not  to  be  a  well-placed  epithet ;  William,  who  h.ul  lived 
many  years  with  HonU,  grew  rich  and  saucy.  The  latter  used  to  say  of  him,  that 
for  the  firit  three  years  he  wa«  as  good  a  servant  as  ever  came  into  a  house  :  for 
the  next  two  a  kind  and  considerate  friend:  and  afterwards  an  abominably  lad 
master- 


STOKY  OF  YATES.  135 

" '  If  ever  a  religious  war  should  arise  again,'  he  said,  '  I 
should  certainly  take  arms  against  the  Dissenters.  Fancy  me 
with  a  bayonet  at  the  heart  of  an  Anabaptist,  with,  "  Your 
church-rate  or  your  life  !  " 

"  He  said  nothing  should  ever  induce  him  to  go  up  in 
a  balloon,  unless  indeed  it  would  benefit  the  Established 
Church.  I  recommended  him  to  go  at  once,  as  there  would 
at  least  be  a  chance  of  it." 

STORY  OF  YATES. 

"Diary  :  January  i,  1835.  —  The  following  story  was  told 
me  as  a  fact  by  George  Raymond.  Yates  (the  well-known 
actor  and  manager  of  the  Adelphi  Theatre)  met  a  friend  from 
Bristol  in  the  street,  whom  he  well  recollected  as  having  been 
particularly  civil  to  his  wife  and  himself  when  at  that  town,  in 
which  the  gentleman  was  a  merchant.  Yates,  who  at  that 
time  lived  at  the  Adelphi  Theatre,  invited  his  friend  to  dinner, 
and  made  a  party,  among  whom  were  Hook  and  Mathews,  to 
meet  him.  On  reaching  home  he  told  his  wife  what  he  had 
done,  describing  the  gentleman,  and  calling  to  her  mind  how 
often  they  had  been  at  his  house  near  the  cathedral. 

" '  I  remember  him  very  well,'  said  Mrs.  Yates,  '  but  I  don't 
just  now  recollect  his  name  — what  is  it  ? ' 

" '  Why,  that  is  the  very  question  I  was  going  to  ask  you,' 
returned  Yates.  '  I  know  the  man  as  well  as  I  know  my  own 
father,  but  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  remember  his  name,  and  I 
made  no  attempt  to  ascertain  it,  as  I  made  sure  you  would 
recollect  it ! ' 

"  What  was  to  be  done  ?  all  that  night  and  the  next  morn- 
ing they  tried  in  vain  to  recover  it,  but  the  name  had  com- 
pletely escaped  them.  In  this  dilemma  Yates  bethought  him 
of  giving  instructions  to  their  servant  which  he  considered 
would  solve  the  difficulty,  and  calling  him  in  told  him  to  be 
very  careful  in  asking  every  gentleman,  as  he  arrived,  his 
name,  and  to  be  sure  to  announce  it  very  distinctly.  Six 
o'clock  came,  and  with  it  the  company  in  succession,  Hook, 
Mathews,  and  the  rest  —  all  but  the  anonymous  guest,  whom 


136  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

Yates  began  to  think,  and  almost  to  hope,  would  not  come  at 
all.  Just,  however,  before  the  dinner,  was  put  on  the  table,  a 
knock  was  heard,  and  the  lad  being  at  that  moment  in  the 
kitchen,  in  the  act  of  carrying  up  a  haunch  of  mutton  which  the 
cook  had  put  into  his  hands,  a  maid-servant  went  to  the  door, 
admitted  the  stranger,  showed  him  up-stairs,  and  opening  the 
drawing-room  door  allowed  him  to  walk  in  without  any  an- 
nouncement at  all.  At  dinner-time  even-body  took  wine  with 
the  unknown,  addressing  him  as  '  Sir,'  — '  A  glass  of  wine,  sir  ? ' 
'  Shall  I  have  the  honor,  sir  ? '  etc.,  but  nothing  transpired  to 
let  out  the  name,  though  several  roundabout  attempts  were 
made  to  get  at  it.  The  evening  passed  away,  and  the  gentle- 
man was  highly  delighted  with  the  company,  but  about  half- 
past  ten  o'clock  he  looked  at  his  watch  and  rose  abruptly, 
saying,  — 

" '  Faith,  I  must  be  off,  or  I  shall  get  shut  out,  for  I  am 
going  to  sleep  at  a  friend's,  in  the  Tower,  who  starts  for  Bris- 
tol with  me  in  the  morning.  They  close  the  gates  at  eleven 
precisely,  and  I  sha'n't  get  in  if  I  am  a  minute  after,  so  good- 
by  at  once.  Be  sure  you  come  and  see  me  whenever  you 
visit  Bristol." 

" '  Depend  on  me,  my  dear  friend  ;  God  bless  you,  if  you 
must  go  ! ' 

"'Adieu,'  said  the  other,  and  Yates  was  congratulating 
himself  on  having  got  out  of  so  awkward  a  scrape,  "when 
his  friend  popped  his  head  back  into  the  mom,  and  cried 
hastily,  — 

"  '  Oh,  by  the  bye,  my  dear  Yates,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that 
I  bought  a  pretty  French  clock  as  I  came  here  to-day,  at  Haw- 
ley's,  but  as  it  needs  a  week's  regulating,  I  took  the  liberty  of 
giving  your  name,  and  ordering  them  to  send  it  here,  and  said 
that  you  would  forward  it.  It  is  paid  for.' 

"The  door  closed,  and  before  Yates  could  get  it  open 
again,  the  gentleman  was  in  the  hall. 

" '  Stop ! '  screamed  Yates  over  the  balusters,  '  you  had 
better  write  the  address  yourself,  for  fear  of  a  mistake. 

" '  No,  no,  1  can't  stop,  I  shall  be  too  late ;  the  old  house, 
near  the  cathedral ;  good-by  ! ' 


THE   CANISTER.  137 

"  The  street  door  slammed  behind  him,  and  Yates  went 
back  to  the  company  in  an  agony. 

"  Douglas  repeated  a  story  very  similar  of  King  the  actor, 
who,  meeting  an  old  friend,  whose  name  he  could  not  recol- 
lect, took  him  home  to  dinner.  By  way  of  making  the  dis- 
cover)', he  addressed  him  in  the  evening,  having  previously 
made  several  ineffectual  efforts  :  — 

" '  My  dear  sir,  my  friend  here  and  myself  have  had  a  dis- 
pute as  to  how  you  spell  your  name  ;  indeed,  we  have  laid  a 
bottle  of  wine  about  it.' 

" '  Oh,  with  two  P's,'  was  the  answer,  which  left  them  just 
as  wise  as  before.'  " 

THE  CANISTER. 

"  We  are  by  no  means  out  of  spirit  here  ;  though  Sir  Robert 
has  given  in  for  the  present,  his  character  and  that  of  his 
Ministry  is  so  raised  by  his  manly  and  able  fight,  in  the  opin- 
ion of  all  classes,  save  and  except  the  mere  Marats  and  Robes- 
pierres,  who  are  happily  contemptible  in  point  of  numbers, 
that  it  is  quite  clear  —  indeed,  many  of  his  opponents  admit 
it  —  that  no  stable  administration  can  be  formed  without  him. 
Even  my  poor  friend  V.  —  that  '  delicately  tinted  Radical,'  as 
'  The  Age  '  not  unhappily  calls  him  —  admits  this,  sore  as  he 
is  at  having  been  just  turned  out  of  his  seat,  when  he  was  set- 
tling himself  quietly  down  and  half  making  up  his  mind  to 
turn  Conservative.  After  all,  he  is  a  gentleman,  and  a  good- 
natured  one,  as  you  will  admit  when  I  tell  you  he  did  not 
knock  me  down  for  the  following  piece  of  impertinence.  They 
were  roasting  him  at  the  Garrick  Club,  just  before  he  was 
unseated,  and  charging  him  with  belonging  to  '  The  Tail,' 
which  he  indignantly  denied.  '  I  will  appeal,'  said  he,  '  to 
the  biggest  Tory  in  the  room  ;  Barham,  what  say  you  ?  Do  I 
deserve,  after  the  manner  I  have  twice  voted,  to  be  called  a 
part  of  the  "  Tail  ?  "  '  Certainly  not,'  was  the  reply  :  '  you 
are  the  canister  ! '  He  did  not  seem  so  flattered  by  my  tak- 
ing his  part  as  he  ought  to  have  been,  but  I  escaped  a  broken 
head." 


138  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

A  DINNER  AT  CHARLES  KEMBLE'S. 

"Diary  :  December  12,  1835.  —  Dined  at  Charles  Kemble's  : 
a  quiet  dinner.  In  the  evening  Mr.  Trelawney  (Byron's  Tre- 
lawney)  came  in :  very  like  a  goodish-looking  bandit ;  radical 
to  the  extreme;  talked  of  having  'no  objection  to  calling  a 
man  a  king,  with  a  moderate  salary,  when  the  House  of  Peers 
should  be  purged,'  etc. ;  said  that  women  might  induce  him  to 
commit  murder,  or,  '  what  was  worse,  petty  larceny  ! ' 

"Story  of  Edward  Walpole,  who,  being  told  one  day  at  the 
'  Garrick '  that  the  confectioners  had  a  way  of  discharging  the 
ink  from  old  parchment  by  a  chemical  process,  and  then  mak- 
ing the  parchment  into  isinglass  for  their  jellies,  said,  '  Then 
I  find  a  man  may  now  eat  his  deeds  as  well  as  his  words.' 
This  has  been  very  unfairly,  like  a  great  many  other  bons  mots, 
attributed  to  James  Smith. 

THOMAS  MOORE. 

"  April  18,  1836.  —  Dined  with  Owen  Rees  in  Paternoster 
Row.  Present,  Mr.  Longman,  senior,  Messrs.  C.  Longman, 
T.  Longman,  W.  Longman,  Tom  Moore,  Dr.  M'Culloch,  Mr. 
Green,  the  host,  and  myself.  Dr.  Hume,  Sydney  Smith,  and 
Mr.  Tate  asked,  but  could  not  come. 

"  Moore  gave  an  account  of  the  King's  (George  IV.)  visit 
to  Ireland.  One  man,  whom  the  King  took  notice  of  and 
shook  hands  with,  cried,  '  There,  then,  the  divil  a  drop  of 
wather  ye  shall  ever  have  to  wash  that  shake  o'  the  hand  off 
of  me ! '  and  by  the  color  of  the  said  hand  a  year  after  it 
would  seem  that  he  had  religiously  kept  his  word.  Moore 
told  this  story  to  Scott,  together  with  another  referring  to  the 
same  occasion.  He  spoke  of  Jeffrey  as  an  excellent  judge, 
and  remarked  on  the  difference  between  his  conversation  and 
that  of  Scott.  Scott  all  anecdote,  without  any  intermediate 
matter  —  all  fact;  Jeffrey  with  a  profusion  of  ideas  all  worked 
up  into  the  highest  flight  of  fancy,  but  no  fact.  Moore  pre- 
ferred Scott's  conversation  to  Jeffrey's  :  the  latter  he  got 
tired  of. 


THOMAS  MOORE.  139 

"  Anecdote  of  the  little  Eton  boy  invited  to  dinner  at  Wind- 
sor Castle,  and  being  asked  by  Queen  Adelaide  what  he  would 
like,  replied,  *  One  of  those  two-penny  tarts,  if  you  please, 
ma'am.'  Lord  Lansdowne's  description  of  Sydney  Smith  as 
'  a  mixture  of  Punch  and  Cato.'  Moore  lamented  that  though 
his  son  had  just  distinguished  himself  by  gaining  an  exhibi- 
tion at  the  Charter  House,  when  his  historical  essays  had  been 
particularly  applauded,  the  prize  would  be  of  no  use  to  him, 
barring  the  honor,  as  he  is  determined  to  enter  the  army. 
His  father  consoled  himself  by  reflecting  that  he  had  given  up 
his  original  wish,  which  was  for  the  navy. 

"  J.  Longman's  story  of  the  rival  convents,  each  possessing 
the  same  (alleged)  relics  of  St.  Francis,  the  one  having  fur- 
nished its  reliquary  with  the  beard  of  an  old  goat  belonging  to 
the  establishment,  the  other  asserting  its  superiority  non  pour 
la  grandeur,  mais  pour  lafraicheur. 

"Moore  talked  of  O'Connell,  and  said  that  he  had  recently 
met  him  in  a  bookseller's  shop  ordering  materials,  in  the  shape 
of  books,  for  his  new  '  Quarterly  Review,'  and  that  he  had 
inadvertently  offered  to  lend  him  a  small  volume  respecting 
Ireland,  but  added  that  he  must  manage  to  slip  out  of  his 
promise  somehow. 

"  Dan,  he  said,  manoeuvred  evidently  that  they  might  walk 
away  together,  but  he  (Moore)  fought  shy  of  the  companionship 
and  outstayed  him.  He  spoke  of  O'Brien,  the  author  of  the 
'  Round  Towers,'  and  said  that  that  person's  hostility  to  him 
was  occasioned  by  his  declining  a  proposal  for  a  sort  of  part- 
nership in  publication.  O'Brien  wrote  to  him  when  he  under- 
took the  '  History  of  Ireland,'  saying  that  he  had  a  complete  key 
to  the  origin  and  meaning  of  the  '  Round  Towers,'  and  pro- 
posed to  communicate  his  secret.  If  Moore  used  O'Brien's 
MS.,  the  compensation  was  to  be  a  hundred  pounds  ;  if  he 
took  the  materials  and  worked  them  up  in  his  own  way,  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  was  to  be  the  sum.  This  was  refused,  and 
O'Brien  was  deeply  offended.  He  died  of  an  epileptic  fit  at 
Hanwell  in  1835,  and  lies  buried  in  the  extreme  northwest 
corner  of  the  church-yard,  close  to  the  rector's  garden.  I  hap- 


I4O  RICHARD  HARRIS  BAR//A<1f. 

pened  accidentally  to  be  present  at  his  funeral.  Mr.  Mahony, 
the  Father  Prout  of  "  Fraser,"  was  a  mourner,  and,  as'  I  have 
heard,  paid  the  expenses.' 

"  Conversation  respecting  Hook's  proposed  '  History  of 
Hanover'  —  all  of  opinion  that  it  would  not  answer.  Moore 
said  that  he  had  met  Hook  twice  only,  once  at  Croker's,  in 
Paris  ;  that  he  was  very  silent  both  times,  and  called  Croker 
'  Sir.' " 

It  was,  I  believe,  on  this  occasion  that  one  of  the  Messrs. 
Longman  present  mentioned  to  my  father  the  following  quaint 
answer  returned  by  Sydney  Smith  to  an  invitation  to  din- 
ner :  — 

"  DEAR  LONGMAN,  —  I  can't  accept  your  invitation,  for  my 
house  is  full  of  country  cousins.  I  wish  they  were  once 
removed.  Yours,  SYDNEY  SMITH." 

"  I  dined  in  company  with  Tom  Moore  the  other  day,  who 
talked  to  me  a  good  deal  about  him,  and  said  that  Lord  Lans- 
downe,  in  allusion  to  his  severity  as  a  man  of  business  and 
levity  at  the  dinner-table,  described  him  as  being  'an  odd 
mixture  of  Punch  and  Cato.'  He  could  hardly  have  hit  him 
off  better.  I  know  you  are  not  over  fond  of  Moore:  /hate 
his  politics,  but  he  is  a  very  amusing  companion. 

"  I  must  tell  you  one  of  his  stories,  because  as  Sir  Walter 
Scott  is  the  hero  of  it,  I  know  it  will  not  be  unacceptable  to 
you.  When  George  IV.  went  to  Ireland,  one  of  the  'pisin- 
try,'  delighted  with  his  affability  to  the  crowd  on  landing, 
said  to  the  toll-keeper  as  the  King  passed  through,  — 

" '  Och,  now !  and  his  Majesty,  God  bless  him,  never  paid 
the  turnpike  !  an'  how  's  that  ? ' 

" '  Oh  !  kings  never  does :  we  lets  'em  go  free,'  was  the 
answer. 

"'Then  there's  the  dirty  money  for  ye,'  says  Pat.  'It 
shall  never  be  said  that  the  King  came  here,  and  found  no- 
body to  pay  the  turnpike  for  him.' 

"  Moore,  on  his  visit  to  Abbotsford,  told  this  story  to  Sir 
Walter,  when  they  were  comparing  notes  as  to  the  two  royal 
visits. 


BAR  HA  M'S  LO  VE  FOR  CHILDREN  AND  CA  TS.     141 

" '  Now,  Mr.  Moore,'  replied  Scott,  '  there  ye  have  just  the 
advanta£fe  of  us.  There  was  no  want  of  enthusiasm  here  : 
the  Scotch  folk  would  have  done  anything  in  the  world  for  his 
Majesty,  but  —  pay  the  turnpike.'  " 

BARHAM'S  LOVE  OF  CHILDREN  AND  CATS. 

In  his  intercourse  with  his  children,  but  more  particularly 
with  his  youngest  son.  Ned,  my  father  was  always  playful  and 
affectionate.  He  loved  to  have  them  about  him,  and  would 
continue  to  read  and  write,  keeping  them  up  of  an  evening  far 
beyond  the  canonical  hours,  wholly  unmindful  of  the  chatter- 
ing that  raged  around.  Our  delight  was  at  its  height  when  he 
could  be  coaxed  into  laying  aside  pen  and  book,  and  induced 
to  draw  round  to  the  fire  and  "  tell  us  a  story."  He  had  a 
manner  of  doing  this,  half  thrilling,  half  comic,  leaving  the 
audience  in  a  pleasing  state  of  excitement,  mingled  with  un- 
certainty as  to  the  exact  amount  of  credit  to  be  given  to  the 
narrative,  that  proved  strangely  fascinating  to  us  young  folks, 
to  say  nothing  of  our  elders.  The  pleasure  second  only  in 
degree  was  to  receive*  a  letter  from  him.  This  would  not  un- 
frequently  be  written  in  verse,  but  always  with  a  liveliness 
and  easy  humor  which,  while  specially  adapted  to  the  taste 
and  capacity  of  the  child,  may  be  read  perhaps  with  some  de- 
gree of  amusement  by  those  of  larger  growth.  At  all  events, 
a  trait  of  character  is  exhibited  in  these  unstudied  effusions, 
without  some  notice  of  which  the  present  slight  sketch  would 
be  yet  more  incomplete. 

TO  MASTER  EDWARD  BARHAM  (xtat.  8). 

"August  17,  1836. 
"  My  dear  little  Ned, 

As  I  fear  you  have  read 
All  the  books  that  you  have,  from  great  A  down  to  Z, 

And  your  aunt,  too,  has  said 

That  you  ;re  very  well  bred, 
And  don't  scream  and  yell  fit  to  waken  the  dead, 

I  think  that  instead 

Of  that  vile  gingerbread 
With  which  little  boys,  I  know,  like  to  be  fed 


142  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

(Though,  lying  like  lead 

On  the  stomach,  the  head  •         , 

Gets  affected,  of  which  most  mammas  have  a  dread), 

I  shall  rather  be  led 

Before  you  to  spread 
These  two  little  volumes,  one  blue  and  one  red. 

As  three  shillings  have  fled 

From  my  pocket,  dear  Ned. 
Don't  dog's-ear  nor  dirt  them,  nor  read  them  in  bed! 

"  Your  affectionate  Father,  R.   H.  B." 

Next  to  his  wife  and  children,  I  verily  believe  my  father 
loved  his  cats.  One  or  two  would  commonly  be  seen  sitting 
on  his  table  —  sometimes  on  his  shoulder  — as  he  wrote  ;  and 
these  animals,  constantly  taught  and  tended  by  his  youngest 
daughter,  attained  a  degree  of  docility  and  intelligence  that  in 
good  King  James's  day  might  have  brought  their  mistress  into 
disagreeable  communication  with  His  Majesty's  Witchfinder- 
General.  The  progenitor  of  the  race  was  brought  home  by 
Mr.  Ilarham,  not  without  serious  detriment  to  his  broadcloth, 
one  wet  night  soon  after  his  arrival  in  London.  He  had 
rescued  the  poor  little  creature,  bleeding  and  muddy,  from  a 
band  of  juvenile  street  Arabs,  who  were  engaged  in  studying 
practically  "  the  art  of  ingeniously  tormenting."  The  progeny 
survived,  and  was  ever  held  in  high  esteem.  One  of  my 
father's  last  injunctions  was  "  Take  care  of  '  Chance  '  (an  in- 
terloper) for  my  sake  :  Jerry  (the  representative  of  the  true 
breed)  will  be  taken  care  of  for  his  own."  On  the  back  of  an 
old  letter  there  is  scribbled  a  sort  of  remonstrance  addressed 
to  the  latter  :  — 

TO  JERRY. 

"Jerry,  my  cat. 

What  the  deuce  are  you  at  ? 

What  makes  you  so  restless?     You  're  sleek  and  you're  fat, 
And  you  've  everything;  cozy  about  you,  —  now  that 
Soft  rug  you  are  lying  on  beats  any  mat ; 

Your  coat 's  smooth  as  silk, 

You've  plenty  of  milk, 

You've  the  fish-bones  for  dinner,  and  always  o1  nights 
For  (.upper  you  know  you  've  a  penn'orth  o'  lights  t 

Jerry,  my  cat. 

What  the  deuce  are  you  it? 


MAS.  RICKETTS*   GHOST  STORY.  143 

What  is  it,  my  Jerry,  that  fidgets  you  so? 
What  is  it  you're  wanting  ? 

(Jerry)  Moll  roe !  Moll  roe! 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  to  me  of  such  nonsense  as  th.it  ! 
You  've  been  always  a  very  respectable  cat ; 
As  the  Scotch  would  say,  '  Whiles ' 
You  Tve  been  out  on  the  tiles ; 

But  you  've  sown  your  wild  oats,  and  you  very  well  know 
You  're  no  longer  a  kitten. 

(Jerry)  Moll  roe  !  Moll  roe  I 

"Well,  Jerry,  I  "m  really  concerned  for  your  case  : 
I  've  been  young,  and  can  fancy  myself  in  your  place  : 
Time  has  been  I  've  stood 
By  the  edge  of  the  wood, 

And  have  mewed  —  that  is,  whistled,  a  Sound  just  as  good  ; 
But  we  're  both  of  us  older,  my  cat,  as  you  know,. 
And  I  hope  are  grown  wiser. 

(Jerry)  Moll  roe!  Moll  roe !  " 

MRS.  RICKETTS'  GHOST  STORY. 

"  It  was  about  the  period  when  Captain  Jervis,  afterwards 
Earl  St.  Vincent,  commanded  the  Thunderer  (Foudroyant  ?) 
in  which  he  so  much  distinguished  himself,  that  on  the  return 
of  that  gallant  commander  to  England,  he  found  his  sister, 
Mrs.  Ricketts,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Ricketts  of  Jamaica,  a  bencher 
of  Gray's  Inn,  residing  in  a  house  between  Alston  and  Als- 
ford  in  Hampshire,  about  four  or  five  miles  from  Abingdon, 
the  seat  of  the  Buckingham  family.  This  house,  then  called 
'  New  House,'  was  part  of  the  property  of  the  noble  family  of 
Legge,  and  of  that  particular  branch  of  it  of  which  the  Lord 
Stawell  (a  peerage  now  extinct)  had  been  the  head.  It  had 
been  principally  occupied  during*  his  life  by  a  Mr.  Legge,  a 
scion  of  the  family,  notorious  for  his  debauched  and  profligate 
habits,  and  after  his  decease  had  remained  for  some  time  un- 
occupied, gradually  acquiring,  as  is  the  case  with  most  un- 
occupied mansions  of  a  similar  description,  the  reputation  of 
being  the  resort  of  supernatural  visitants. 

"  To  this  circumstance,  perhaps,  and  the  consequent  diffi- 
culty of  finding  a  tenant,  may  be  attributed  the  easy  terms  on 


144  RICHARD  HARRIS  BAKU  A.M. 

which  Mr.  Ricketts  obtained  it  as  a  residence  for  his  wife 
and  family,  during  his  own  absence  on  a  visit  to  his  estates  in 
the  West  Indies.  This  gentleman  seems  to  have  held  the 
stories  connected  with  the  building  in  thorough  contempt,  a 
sentiment  partaken  of  by  Mrs.  Ricketts  herself,  who  was  nat- 
urally a  strong-minded  woman,  and  whose  good  sense  had 
acquired  additional  strength  from  the  advantages  of  an  excel- 
lent education. 

"  To  '  New  House  '  then  the  lady  had  repaired  almost  im- 
mediately after  her  husband's  departure  for  Jamaica,  purpos- 
ing in  quiet  retirement  to  superintend  there  the  education  of 
her  daughter  (afterwards  married  to  the  Earl  of  Northesk). 

"  Mrs.  Ricketts  had  not  long  been  located  in  her  new  dom- 
icile, before  the  servants  began  to  complain  of  certain  unac- 
countable noises  which  were  heard  in  the  house  by  day  as 
well  as  by  night,  and  the  origin  of  which  they  found  it  impos- 
sible to  detect.  The  story  of  the  house  being  haunted  was 
revived  with  additional  vigor,  especially  when  its  mistress  be- 
came herself  an  ear-witness  of  those  remarkable  sounds,  and 
an  investigation,  set  on  foot  and  carried  on  under  her  own 
immediate  superintendence,  assisted  by  several  friends  whom 
she  called  in  upon  the  occasion,  had  proved  as  ineffectual  as 
those  previously  instituted  by  the  domestics.  The  noises 
continued,  as  did  the  alarm  of  the  servants,  which  increased 
to  an  absolute  panic,  and  the  whole  of  them  at  length,  with 
the  exception  of  an  old  and  attached  attendant  on  Mrs.  Rick- 
etts' person,  gave  warning  and  left  their  situations  in  a  body. 

"  A  thorough  change  in  the  household,  however,  produced 
no  other  effect  than  that  of  proving  beyond  a  doubt  that  the 
noises,  from  whatever  cause  they  might  proceed,  were  at 
least  not  produced  by  the  instrumentality  or  collusion  of  the 
domestics.  A  second  and  a  third  set  were  tried,  but  with  no 
better  result ;  few  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  stay  beyond  the 
month. 

"  It  was  at  this  time  that  Mrs.  Gwynne,  from  whose  mouth 
Mrs.  Hughes  had  this  relation,  came  to  reside  a  short  time 
with  her  old  and  dear  friend,  and  being  a  woman  of  strong 


MRS   RICKETTS^   GHOST  STORY.  145 

nerve,  she  remained  with  her  longer  than  she  had  originally 
intended,  although  not  a  day  or  night  passed  without  their 
being  disturbed.  Mrs.  Gwynne  described  the  sounds  as  most 
frequently  resembling  the  ripping  and  rending  of  boards,  ap- 
parently those  of  the  floor  above,  or  below  (as  the  case  might 
be)  that  in  which  her  friend  and  herself  were  sitting  ;  but  on 
more  than  one  occasion  she  herself  distinctly  heard  the  whis- 
perings of  three  voices,  seemingly  so  close  to  her  that,  by  put- 
ting out  her  hand,  she  fancied  she  could  have  touched  the 
persons  uttering  them.  One  of  the  voices  was  clearly  that  of 
a  female,  who  appeared  to  be  earnestly  imploring  some  one 
with  tears  and  sobbings  ;  a  manly,  resolute  voice  was  evi- 
dently refusing  her  entreaty,  while  rough,  harsh,  and  most  dis- 
cordant tones,  as  of  some  hardened  ruffian,  were  occasion- 
ally heard  interfering ;  these  last  were  succeeded  by  two 
loud  and  piercing  shrieks  from  the  female  ;  then  followed  the 
crashing  of  boards  again,  and  all  was  quiet  for  the  time. 

"  The  visitations  were  so  frequently  repeated  that,  at 
length,  even  Mrs.  G Wynne's  constancy  began  to  give  way, 
and  she  prepared  to  leave  her  friend.  Previously  to  her  de- 
parture, however,  she  was  aroused  one  night  by  Mrs.  Rick- 
etts'  cries  (who  slept  in  the  next  chamber  to  her),  and  on  run- 
ning to  her  assistance,  was  informed  that,  just  before,  she, 
Mrs.  Ricketts,  had  distinctly  heard  some  person  jump  from 
the  window-sill  down  on  the  floor  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and 
that,  as  the  chamber  door  had  continued  bolted,  he  must  still 
be  in  the  room.  The  strictest  search  was  made,  but  no  one 
was  discovered. 

"  Various  were  the  causes  assigned  in  the  neighborhood  by 
the  peasantry  for  these  supernatural  visitations,  the  history 
of  which  had  now  become  rife  all  over  that  country  side. 
Among  other  things  it  was  said  that  Mr.  Legge  had  always 
been  a  notorious  evil  liver,  that  he  had  held  in  his  employ  one 
Robin,  as  butler,  a  man  with  a  remarkably  deep-toned,  hoarse, 
guttural  voice,  who  was  well  known  as  a  pander  to  all  his 
master's  vices  and  worst  passions,  and  the  unprincipled  ex- 
ecutor of  all  his  oppressive  dealings  with  his  tenantry.  That 
10 


146  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

there  was  also  a  niece  of  Mr.  Legge's  resident  with  her  uncle, 
and  that  dark  rumors  had  been  afloat  of  her  having  been  at 
one  time  in  the  family  way,  though,  as  they  said,  '  nothing ' 
ever  came  of  it,'  and  no  child  was  ever  known  to  have  been 
born  ;  heavy  suspicions,  indeed,  had  been  entertained  on  that 
score  by  the  village  gossips,  which  had  gone  so  far  that  noth- 
ing but  the  wealth  and  influence  of  the  squire  had  stifled  in- 
quiry. What  had  eventually  become  of  the  young  lady  no 
one  knew,  but  it  was  supposed  she  had  gone  abroad  before 
her  uncle's  death. 

"  Mrs.  Ricketts  and  her  friends  endeavored  to  follow  up 
these  rumors,  but  the  only  thing  they  could  arrive  at  with  any 
degree  of  certainty  was  what  they  learned  from  an  aged  man, 
a  carpenter,  who  declared  that  many  years  ago  he  had  been 
sent  for  to  the  Hall,  and  had  been  taken  by  Robin  up  into 
one  of  the  bedrooms,  where,  by  his  direction,  he  had  cut  out 
a  portion  of  one  of  the  planks,  and  also  part  of  the  joist  be- 
low ;  upon  which  the  butler  had  brought  a  box,  which  he  said 
contained  valuable  title  deeds  that  his  master  wished  to  have 
placed  in  security,  and  having  put  it  into  the  cavity  ordered 
him  to  nail  down  the  plank  as  before.  This,  he  said,  he  had 
done,  and  could  easily  point  out  the  place. 

"  Mrs.  Ricketts  ordered  the  man  to  be  conducted  up-stairs, 
when  he  at  once  fixed  on  the  door  of  her  own  sleeping  apart- 
ment, saying,  that,  though  it  was  a  good  many  years  ago,  he 
was  certain  that  was  the  room.  On  being  introduced,  he 
looked  about  for  an  instant,  and  then  pointed  out  a  part  of  the 
floor  where  there  was  evidently  a  separation  in  the  plank,  and 
which  Mrs.  Ricketts  declared  was  the  precise  spot,  as  near  as 
she  could  have  described  it,  where  the  supposed  intruder  had 
alighted  on  his  jump  from  the  window. 

"  The  board  was  immediately  taken  up  ;  the  joist  below  was 
found  to  be  half  sawn  through,  and  the  upper  portion  re- 
moved, precisely  as  the  carpenter  had  described  it ;  the  cavity, 
however,  was  empty,  and  the  box,  if  box  there  had  been,  must 
have  been  removed  at  some  previous  opportunity.  After  this 
investigation  which  ended  in  nothing,  the  noises  and  the  whis- 


M/tS.    RICKETTS1   GHOST  STORY.  147 

perings,  through  never  distinct,  continued  with  but  little  di- 
minution in  frequency,  and  proved  sufficient  to  render  the  house 
exceedingly  uncomfortable  to  its  inmates. 

"  Matters  were  in  this  state,  when  Captain  Jervis,  on  his  re- 
turn to  England,  made  his  appearance  at  New  House,  with  his 
friend  Colonel  Luttrell,  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  sister.  He  had 
already  heard  of  her  annoyance,  by  letter,  and  of  her  dis- 
inclination to  take  the  step  he  recommended,  of  removing, 
from  the  fear  of  offending  her  husband,  who  was  somewhat  of 
a  martinet  at  home,  and  would  of  course  treat  the  whole  story 
as  a  fable.  Captain  Jervis  seemed  himself  very  much  inclined 
to  look  upon  it  at  first  in  the  same  light,  or  rather  to  consider 
it  as  a  trick  —  for  he  had  no  doubt  of  his  sister's  veracity  — 
and  a  trick  which  he  was  determined  to  find  out. 

"  With  this  view,  the  Colonel  and  himself,  sending  all  the 
rest  of  the  family  to  bed,  sat  up,  each  in  a  separate  parlor  on 
the  ground-floor,  with  loaded  pistols  by  their  side,  and  all 
other  appurtenances  most  approved,  when  people  have  the 
prospect  before  them  of  a  long  night  to  be  spent  in  ghost- 
hunting. 

"  The  clock  had  stricken  '  one,'  when  the  sounds  already 
mentioned,  as  of  persons  ripping  up  the  floor  above,  were  sim- 
ultaneously heard  by  both.  Each  rushed  from  the  parlor  he 
occupied,  with  a  light  in  one  hand  and  a  cocked  pistol  in  the 
other,  and  encountered  his  friend  in  the  passage.  At  first,  a 
slight  altercation  ensued  between  them,  each  accusing  the 
other  of  a  foolish  attempt  at  a  hoax  ;  but  the  colloquy  was 
brought  to  an  abrupt  termination  by  the  same  sounds  which 
each  had  heard  separately  being  now  renewed,  and  to  all  out- 
ward seeming,  immediately  above  their  heads.  The  whisper- 
ing, too,  at  this  juncture,  became  audible  to  both. 

"  The  gentlemen  rushed  up-stairs,  aroused  their  servants, 
and  commenced  a  vigorous  and  immediate  search  throughout 
the  whole  premises  ;  nothing,  however,  was  found  more  than 
on  any  former  occasion  of  the  same  kind,  with  this  exception, 
that  in  one  of  the  rooms  sounds  were  distinctly  heard  of  a 
different  character  from  any  before  noticed,  and  resembling, 


148  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

as  Mrs.  Gwynne  averred,  '  the  noise  which  would  be  produced 
by  the  rattling  dry  bones  in  a  box.'  They  seemed  to  proceed 
from  one  of  two  presses  which  filled  up  a  portion  of  the  apart- 
ment ;  the  door  was  immediately  burst  open,  and  the  piece  of 
furniture  knocked  to  pieces  ;  every  search  was  made  around, 
and  even  in  the  wall  to  which  it  had  adjoined  ;  but  still,  as 
heretofore,  all  investigation  was  fruitless.  Captain  Jervis,  how- 
ever, at  once  took  upon  himself  the  responsibility  of  removing 
his  sister  and  her  family  to  a  farm-house  in  the  same  parish, 
where  they  remained  till  Mr.  Ricketts'  return. 

"That  part  of  the  county  of  Hants  being  much  the  resort  of 
smugglers,  an  attempt  has  been  made  to  account  for  these 
events  by  attributing  them  to  their  agency,  aided  by  the  col- 
lusion of  the  servants.  The  latter  part  of  the  supposition 
could  not  be  true, — the  whole  household  having  been  so  fre- 
quently changed.  Even  Mrs.  Ricketts'  favorite  maid  had  at 
last,  most  reluctantly,  abandoned  her ;  besides  which  Mrs.  R. 
had,  throughout  the  whole  business,  kept  a  diary  of  the  trans- 
action, which  she  had  regularly  caused  all  the  domestics,  as 
they  left  her  service,  to  sign,  in  attestation  of  its  truth,  as  far 
as  their  own  personal  experience  had  qualified  them  so  to  do. 
Mrs.  Gwynne  herself,  as  well  as  a  few  other  visitors,  had  done 
the  same,  and  this  diary  coming  into  the  hands  of  her  daughter 
at  her  mother's  decease,  had  been  in  the  same  way  transmitted 
to  the  granddaughter,  in  whose  possession  it  now  is. 

"  It  remains  to  be  added,  that  with  Lord  St.  Vincent  the  sub- 
ject was  a  very  sore  one  to  the  day  of  his  death  ;  and  any  allu- 
sion to  it  always  brought  on  a  fit  of  ill-humor,  and  a  rebuke  to 
him  who  ventured  to  make  it.  The  house  has  been  since,  I 
believe,  pulled  down,  but  it  does  not  appear  that  anything  has 
occurred  to  throw  any  light  on  the  mystery,  or  to  strengthen 
or  refute  the  suspicions  which  the  good  folks  in  the  neighbor- 
hood entertained  of  the  crime  of  Mr.  Legge,  and  the  unrest 
which  his  spirit,  and  those  of  his  supposed  coadjutor  and 
victim,  had  experienced  from  the  date  of  his  delinquency. 

"  Mrs.  Hughes  expressed  her  doubt  as  to  the  accuracy  of  the 
name  of  the  mansion  in  which  all  these  strange  occurrences 


MRS.   RICKETTS'   GHOST  STORY.  149 

took  place,  but  of  the  fact  she  was  positive.  The  way  in  which 
she  first  became  acquainted  with  them  was  as  follows  :  Mrs. 
Gwynne,  being  a  visitor  at  her  mother's  house,  was  about 
to  relate  the  story,  when  she  was  checked  by  the  hostess,  who 
requested  her  to  wait  till  Mary  Anne  (Mrs.  Hughes),  at  that 
time  a  child,  was  gone  to  bed.  This  so  excited  the  girl's  cu- 
riosity, that  she  contrived  to  hide  herself  behind  the  curtains 
of  the  room  till  the  '  ghost  story '  was  told." 

According  to  another  version  which  was  given  by  an  elderly 
lady  named  Hoy,  to  Lady  Douglas,  fronr  whom  I  heard  it,  the 
scene  of  these  strange  events  was  Marwell  Hall,  a  lonely  man- 
sion situated  between  Bishopstoke  and  Winchester.  The 
house  had  been  the  residence  of  Jane  Seymour,  and  prepara- 
tions for  her  marriage  with  Henry  are  said  to  have  been  going 
on  within  its  walls  during  the  very  day  appointed  for  the  ex- 
ecution of  the  hapless  Anne  Boleyn.  Miss  Hoy  maintained 
that  it  was  no  other  than  the  ghost  of  the  unfeeling  Queen 
Jane  who  used  to  disturb  the  inmates,  and  whose  uncomfort- 
able habits  led  eventually  to  the  destruction  of  her  former 
abode.  For  the  old  lady  went  on  to  say  that  Captain  Jervis, 
having  watched  in  the  haunted  room  alone  one  night,  during 
which  he  was  heard  to  fire  a  couple  of  pistol  shots,  appeared 
next  morning  with  a  grave  and  troubled  countenance  ;  that 
he  positively  refused  to  answer  any  questions  as  to  what  had 
taken  place,  but  at  once  sought  an  interview  with  the  landlord, 
and  in  consequence  of  the  communication  made  to  him,  but 
withheld  from  all  others,  the  house  was  shortly  after  demol- 
ished, and  a  modern  habitation  erected  in  its  place.  It  is 
obvious  that  these  two  versions  may  be  partially  reconciled  on 
the  very  probable  supposition  that  it  is  the  present  building 
which  is  known  as  the  "  New  House,"  and  that  it  has  been  con- 
founded by  Mrs.  Hughes  with  the  original  Marwell  Hall.  Of 
course  considerable  difference  of  opinion  must  continue  to 
exist  respecting  the  identity  of  the  ghost,  unless,  indeed,  it 
should  be  allowed  that  the  two,  like  rival  tragedians  engaged 
at  the  same  theatre,  used  to  perform  on  alternate  nights. 


I5O  RICJIARD  If  ARRIS  HARHAM. 

PICKLED  COCKLES. 

"  A  certain  notable  housewife  —  he  [Cannon]  used  to  say  — 
had  observed  that  her  stock  of  pickled  cockles  was  running 
remarkably  low,  and  she  spoke  to  the  cook  in  consequence, 
who  alone  had  access  to  them.  The  cook  had  noticed  the 
same  serious  deficiency  :  '  she  could  n't  tell  how,  but  they  cer- 
tainly ^/disappeared  much  too  fast ! '  A  degree  of  coolness, 
approaching  to  estrangement,  ensued  between  these  worthy 
individuals,  which  the  rapid  consumption  of  the  pickled 
cockles  by  no  means  contributed  to  remove.  The  lady  became 
more  distant  than  ever,  spoke  pointedly  and  before  company 
of  '  some  people's  unaccountable  partiality  to  pickled  cockles,' 
etc.  The  cook's  character  was  at  stake  :  unwilling  to  give 
warning,  with  such  an  imputation  upon  her  self-denial,  not  to 
say  honesty,  she,  nevertheless,  felt  that  all  confidence  between 
her  mistress  and  herself  was  at  an  end. 

"  One  day,  the  jar  containing  the  evanescent  condiment 
being  placed  as  usual  on  the  dresser,  while  she  was  busily 
engaged  in  basting  a  joint  before  the  fire,  she  happened  to 
turn  suddenly  round,  and  beheld,  to  her  great  indignation,  a 
favorite  magpie,  remarkable  for  his  conversational  powers  and 
general  intelligence,  perched  by  its  side,  and  dipping  his  beajc 
down  the  open  neck  with  every  symptom  of  gratification.  The 
mystery  was  explained  —  the  thief  detected  !  Grasping  the 
ladle  of  scalding  grease  which  she  held  in  her  hand,  the  exas- 
perated lady  dashed  the  whole  contents  over  the  hapless  pet, 
accompanied  by  the  exclamation,  — 

" '  Oh,  d —  mz,you  've  been  at  the  pickled  cockles,  have  ye  ? ' 

"  Poor  Mag,  of  course,  was  dreadfully  burnt  ;  most  of  his 
feathers  came  off,  leaving  his  little  round  pate,  which  had 
caught  the  principal  part  of  the  volley,  entirely  bare.  The 
poor  bird  moped  about,  lost  all  his  spirit,  and  never  spoke  for 
a  whole  year. 

"  At  length,  when  he  had  pretty  well  recovered  and  was 
beginning  to  chatter  again,  a  gentleman  called  at  the  house, 
who,  on  taking  off  his  hat,  discovered  a  very  bald  head  !  The 


POETICAL  EPISTLE    TO  DR.   HUME.  151 

magpie,  who  happened  to  be  in  the  room,  appeared  evidently 
struck  by  the  circumstance :  his  reminiscences  were  at  once 
powerfully  excited  by  the  naked  appearance  of  the  gentleman's 
skull.  Hopping  upon  the  back  of  his  chair,  and  looking  him 
hastily  over,  he  suddenly  exclaimed  in  the  ear  of  the  as- 
tounded visitor,  — 

" '  Oh,  d —  me,  you  'vt  been  at  the  pickled  cockles,  have 
ye?'" 

GEAME  FEATHERS. 

"  Mr.  Wood,  the  conchologist,  once  told  me  a  story,  which 
I  think  carries  friendly  consolation  and  good  offices  in  ex- 
tremis to  even  a  higher  pitch. 

, "  He  was  once  a  surgeon  at  Windham,  in  Kent,  and  said 
that,  in  the  course  of  his  practice,  he  had  to  pay  what  he  con- 
sidered would  be  his  last  visit  to  an  elderly  laboring  man  on 
Adisham  Downs.  He  had  left  him  in  the  last  stage  of  illness 
the  day  before,  and  was  not  surprised  on  calling  again  to  find 
him  dead,  but  did  experience  a  little'  astonishment  at  seeing 
the  bed  on  which  he  had  been  lying  now  withdrawn  from  under 
the  body,  and  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  To  his  re- 
marks, the  answer  given  by  her  who  had  officiated  as  nurse  (?) 
was,  — 

" '  Dearee  me,  sir,  you  see  there  was  partridge-feathers  in  the 
bed,  and  folks  can't  die  upon  geame  feathers,  nohow,  and  we 
thought  as  how  he  never  would  go,  so  we  pulled  the  bed  away, 
and  then  I  just  pinched  his  poor  nose  tight  with  one  hand,  and 
shut  his  mouth  close  with  t'  other,  and,  poor  dear  !  he  went  off 
like  a  lamb  ! '  " 

POETICAL  EPISTLE  TO  DR.  HUME. 

On  the  ninth  November  of  this  year  (1837),  the  Queen  came 
in  state  to  dine  with  the  Lord  Mayor  at  the  annual  banquet  at 
Guildhall.  Preparations  on  the  most  magnificent  scale  were 
made  to  receive  her  ;  throughout  the  whole  line  of  march  scaf- 
foldings were  erected,  windows  were  fitted  up,  balconies  thrown 
out,  the  most  conspicuous  positions  being  occupied  by  ladies 
in  rich  and  varied  raiment,  all  glorious  to  behold.  Seats  com- 


152  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

manding  a  view  of  the  procession  were  sold  at  extravagant 
prices,  and  were  with  difficulty  to  be  procured  on  any  terms. 
Mr.  Barham's  house  in  St.  Paul's  Church-yard  was  of  course 
thronged  with  visitors,1  and  an  invitation  was  conveyed  in  the 
following  terms  to  his  old  friend  Dr.  Hume  :  — 

TO  DR.  HUME. 

"  ST.  P.  C  Y.,  Novtmbtr  4, 1837- 

"  Doctor  dear!  the  Queen's  a  coining! 

All  this  ancient  city  round ; 
Scarce  a  place  to  squeeze  one's  thumb  in, 
High  or  low,  can  now  be  found ; 

"  So  my  spouse  —  you  '11  hardly  thank  her  — 

Thus  in  substance  bids  me  say  — 

'  Bring  your  sweet  self  to  an  anchor, 

Doctor  dear,  with  us  that  day  t ' 

"  If  no  haunch  your  palate  tickles, 

If  no  turtle  greet  your  eye, 
There  '11  be  cold  roast  beef  and  pickles, 
Ox-tail  soup,  and  pigeon  pie. 

"  Fear  not  then  the  knaves  who  fleece  men  — 

Johnny  Raws,  and  country  muffs  I 
There  'II  be  lots  of  new  policemen 
To  control  the  rogues  and  roughs. 

"  Doctor  darling!  think  how  grand  is 

Such  a  sight !  the  great  Lord  Ma/r 
Heading  all  the  city  dandies 
There  on  horseback  takes  the  air ! 

"  Chains  and  maces  all  attend,  he 
Rides  all  glorious  to  be  seen ; 
'  Lad  o*  wax ! '  great  Heaven  forfend  he 
Don't  get  spilt  before  the  Queen ! 

"  Blue-coat  boy*  with  classic  speeches,  — 
From  our  windows  you  shall  view 

1  Among  those  present  was  Mr.  Poole.  At  the  dinner  which  followed  the  specta- 
cle one  of  the  guest*,  moved  by  enthusiasm  and  loyalty,  to  say  nothing  of  champagne, 
ro«e  to  propose  the  health  of  the  Queen.  "  We  have  heard  to-day,''  he  commenced, 
"  many  hurrahs"  —  "  Yes,"  interrupted  Poole,  "  and  we  have  seen  to-day  many  hut' 
tart  I " 


AN  ACCOMPLISHED  SWINDLER.  153 

Their  yellow  stockings,  yellow  breeches, 
And  '  long  togs'  of  deepest  blue. 

"  Here  the  cutlers,  —  there  the  nailers,  — 

Here  the  barber-surgeons  stand, — 
Goldsmiths  here  —  there  merchant  tailors, 
And  in  front  the  Coldstream  Band! 

"Gas-lights,  links,  and  flambeaux  blazing, 

These  will  shame  the  noon-tide  ray  ; 
'  Night !  —  pooh !  —  stuff !   't  is  quite  amazing  1 
Why  't  is  brighter  far  than  day !  ' 

"  But  a  scene  so  brilliant  mocks  all 
Power  its  beauties  to  declare  ; 
Once  beheld,  poor  Gye  of  Vauxhall 
Hangs  himself  in  deep  despair ! 

"  Come  then,  Doctor,  quit  your  shrubbery, 

Cock  your  castor  o'er  your  ear ; 
Come  and  gaze,  and  taste  the  grubbery, 
Ah,  now  join  us,  Doctor  dear! 

"R.  H.  B." 

AN  ACCOMPLISHED  SWINDLER. 

By  the  detection  of  an  accomplished  swindler  Mr.  Barham 
was  the  means  of  relieving  a  friend  from  a  burden  borne  cheer- 
fully for  some  years.  He  (my  father)  received  a  note  one 

morning  from  the  Bishop  of begging  him  to  call  as  soon 

as  possible,  the  writer  being  about  to  leave  town  in  a  few 
hours.  The  Bishop  was  found  immersed  in  business,  and  he 
hastily  explained  the  cause  of  the  summons  he  had  sent. 

"  I  have  been  in  the  habit,"  he  said,  "of  paying  quarterly  a 
small  sum  to  the  relict  of  a  deceased  clergyman.  He  was  a 
worthless  fellow  enough,  and  on  his  death  his  widow  and  daugh- 
ter were  left  without  a  farthing  and  without  a  friend.  They 
called  upon  me,  and  I  was  much  struck  by  their  ladylike  and  re- 
fined manners,  by  their  grief  and  by  their  poverty,  evidences  of 
which  were  painfully  conspicuous.  I  promised  some  periodical 
assistance,  and  I  have  never  failed  to  send  it  punctually  till 
now,  when  I  find  to  my  horror  that  I  have  permitted  the  lapse  of 
nearly  a  week.  Now  I  want  you  to  call  and  explain  to  these 
poor  people  the  cause  of  my  neglect,  which  is  illness,  and  ex- 


154  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

press  my  sorrow  at  any  inconvenience  it  may  have  caused 
them.  At  the  same  time  you  can  hand  them  my  usual  contri- 
bution, and  should  their  circumstances  seem  to  require  it,  you 
may  increase  it  according  to  your  discretion." 

In  the  course  of  that  afternoon  Mr.  Barham  called  at  a  house 

in  Salisbury  Street,  Strand.      Was  Mrs. at  home  ?     It 

appeared,  after  a  prolonged  and  audible  discussion  carried  on 

above,  that   Mrs. was   at   home ;  would   the   gentleman 

"  leave  his  business  ?  "  The  gentleman  would  with  pleasure 
leave  his  business  with  the  person  whom  it  concerned.  Well, 
he  could  walk  up-stairs  —  "  first  floor,  front."  And  up-stairs 
accordingly  he  walked.  On  entering  the  drawing-room  he  found 
it  very  showily,  if  not  handsomely  furnished  ;  as  much  or  more 
might  be  said  of  the  two  ladies  who  occupied  it.  One,  the 
elder,  was  reclining  in  an  arm-chair,  and  comforting  hcrself-in 
her  bereavement  with  a  tumbler  of  what  smelt  suspiciously  like 
grog  —  hot !  The  younger,  somewhat  more  decolletee  than 
was  quite  suitable  to  the  time  of  day,  or  indeed  to  any  time  of 
day,  was  dressed  in  great  splendor,  and  was  warbling  her  woes 
to  a  pianoforte  accompaniment.  The  entrance  of  the  intruder, 
for  such  he  at  once  perceived  himself  to  be,  produced  a  de- 
cided effect  upon  both.  The  younger  swung  gracefully  around 
upon  her  music  stool  and  faced  him  ;  the  elder  arose,  and  in 
an  angry  tone  demanded  whom  he  was  and  what  he  wanted. 

He  was  a  friend  of  the  Bishop  of ,  and  what  he  wanted 

was  to  apologize  for  mistaking  the  ladies  before  him  for  Mrs. 
and  Miss  . 

"  That 's  my  name,  and  that 's  my  daughter,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Indeed  !  "  observed  Mr.  Barham,  "then,  Madam,  the  mis- 
take is  the  Bishop's,  and  not  mine."  Upon  this  the  lady,  who 
was  a  trifle  thick  of  speech,  and  had  seemingly  required  a  good 
deal  of  stimulating  to  raise  her  spirits,  began  to  use  language 
which  would  rather  have  astonished  his  lordship  if  he  could 
have  heard  and  comprehended  it.  But  the  daughter  interposed 
and  begged  politely  to  know  the  object  of  the  visit. 

"  My  object,  Madam,  was  to  convey  to  your  mother  a  com- 
munication from  the  Bishop  of ,  but  it  is  one  which  I  now 


A  SONG  OF  SIXPENCE.  1 5  5 

feel  to  be  so  completely  out  of  place  that  I  must  ask  you  to 
apply  for  it  to  his  lordship  in  person,  on  his  return  from  the 
country  —  if  you  think  Jit.'''' 

So  saying,  Mr.  Barham  retreated  as  speedily  as  possible 
from  the  house,  and  no  more  was  ever  heard,  so  far  as  I  am 
aware,  of  the  distressing  case  he  had  left  there  unrelieved. 

A  SONG  OF  SIXPENCE. 

"  Diary  :  October,  1838.  —  The  following  is  a  doggerel  ver- 
sification of  a  correspondence  between  M B ,  the 

celebrated  singer  and  surgeon,  and  the  committee  of  the  Gar- 
rick  Club.  The  question  arose  about  the  charge  of  '  sixpence 
for  the  table  '  always  added  to  the  bill  when  refreshments  are 

ordered   between   the   hours  of  four   and   nine.     Mr.  B 

angrily  insisted  on  this  sum  being  deducted,  as  at  a  quarter 
before  eight  he  had  ordered  supper  and  not  dinner.  The 
stanzas  are  almost  literal  versions  of  the  original  letters  put 
into  rhyme. 

A  SONG  OF  SIXPENCE. 

No.  I. 

"  Mr.  B sends  his  bill  back  —  won't  pay  it  —  and  begs 

To  inform  the  Committee  they're  regular  '  legs,' 

And  have  charged  him  too  much  for  his  ham  and  his  eggs!  " 

No.   II. 

"Dear  Sir,  — The  Committee  direct  me  to  say 
That  the  bill's  quite  correct  which  was  sent  you  to  day ; 
It  was  not  eight  o'clock  when  you  sat  down  to  dine, 
And  we  charge  for  the  table  from  four  until  nine. 
They  have  not  the  least  wish  your  remonstrance  to  stifle, 
But  you  're  wrong  —  and  they  '11  thank  you  to  pay  that  'ere  trifle ! 
I  am  further  desired  to  inform  Mr.  B. 
That,  in  calling  them  '  legs,'  he  makes  rather  too  free.  J.  W." 

No.  III. 

"  You  may  tell  that  banditti,  the Committee, 

Not  a  chop-house  would  charge  me  so  much  in  the  City. 

"!'  was  no  dinner  at  all ;  I  meant  only  to  sup ; 

If  you  say  that  I  dined,  you  're  a  lying  old  pup ! 

You  may  tell  the  Committee  again  —  and  I  say  it, 

They  are  '  legs '  —  and  sixpence !  —  I  'm  hanged  if  I  pay  it.         W    B." 


156  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

No.  IV. 

"  Sir,  — Once  more  the  Committee  direct  me  to  state, 
When  you  sat  down  to  dinner  it  had  not  struck  eight ; 
When  you  come  to  consider  what  '  table '  means  here  — 
Cloth,  napkin,  wax,  vinegar,  mustard,  oil,  beer, 
Pepper,  pickles,  and  bread  at  discretion  —  it 's.clear 
The  additional  sixpence  can  never  be  dear! 
So  you  'd  better  fork  out,  sir,  at  once ;  if  you  won't 
They  must  really  enforce  it  —  and  blessed  if  they  don't  I  J.  W." 

No.  V. 
"  Take  the  sixpence,  you  thieves  I     I  say  still  it 's  a  chouse  ; 

Your  threat  to  '  enforce  '  I  don' t  value  one 

And  hang  me  if  I  ever  :et  foot  in  your  house!  W.  B." 

No.  VI. 

"  Sir,  —  Since  writing  my  last  I  have  asked  the  advice 
Of  my  friends  Mr.  Bacon  and  Governor  Price, 

And  the  Governor  says  '  he  '11  be sir '  if  I  'm 

Not  a  jackass  for  writing  what  I  thought  sublime  ; 

'  It 's  just  what  the fellows  wanted  ;  you'd  better 

Get  somebody  else,  sir,  to  write  you  a  letter 
Withdrawing  your  own.'     So  I  have,  and  I  '11  thank 
The  Committee  to  mark  that  this  comes  by  a  frank.'' 

No.  VII. 
"  Mr.  Winston  presents  his  best  compliments  —  begs 

To  inform  Mr.  B he  is  somewhat  mistaken 

If,  having  got  into  his  scrape  by  his  eggs, 
He  thinks  to  get  out  of  it  now  by  his  Bacon  I  " 

THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  BELGIANS. 

"  What  think  you  of  a  visit  from,  and  confabulation  with, 
the  Queen  of  the  Belgians  !  On  Saturday,  I  was  in  the  li- 
brary at  St.  Paul's,  my  '  custom  always  in  an  afternoon,'  with 
a  bookbinder's  'prentice  and  a  printer's  devil,  looking  out  fifty 
dilapidated  folios  for  rebinding  ;  I  had  on  a  coat  which,  from 
a  foolish  prejudice  in  the  multitude  against  patched  elbows, 
I  wear  nowhere  else,  my  hands  and  face  encrusted  with  the 
dust  of  years,  and  wanting  only  the  shovel  —  I  had  the  brush 
—  to  sit  for  the  portrait  of  a  respectable  master  chimney- 
sweeper, when  the  door  opened,  and  in  walked  the  Cap  of 
Maintenance  bearing  the  sword  of,  and  followed  by  the  Lord 
Mayor  in  full  fig,  with  the  prettiest  and  liveliest  little  French- 


MONCRIEF,    THE  DRAMATIST.  157 

woman  leaning  upon  his  arm.  Nobody  could  get  at  the 
'  Lions  '  but  myself  ;  I  was  fairly  in  for  it,  and  was  thus 
presented  in  the  most  rechercht,  if  not  the  most  expensive, 
court  dress  that  I  will  venture  to  say  the  eyes  of  royalty  were 
ever  greeted  withal.  Heureusement  pour  mot,  she  spoke  ex- 
cellent English,  however,  and  rattled  on  with  a  succession  of 
questions,  which  I  answered  as  best  I  might.  They  were 
sensible,  however,  showed  some  acquaintance  with  literature, 
and  a  very  good  knowledge  of  dates. 

"  My  gaucherie  afforded  her  one  opportunity  of  displaying 
her  acquaintance  with  chronology  which  she  did  not  miss. 
The  date  of  a  MS.  was  the  question  ;  I  unthinkingly  re- 
ferred to  that  of  the  Battle  of  Agincortrt  an  allusion  which 
a  courtier  would  have  shunned  as  a  rock  ahead,  considering 
the  figure  an  Orleans  cut  in  that  fight.  It  was  not  quite  so 
bad  certainly  as  the  gentleman  telling  Prince  Eugene  that  '  a 
certain  event  took  place  in  the  year  the  Countess  of  Soissons 
(his  mother)  poisoned  her  husband,'  but  it  was  enough  to 
have  made  poor  Colonel  Dalton  faint.  She  relieved  me,  how- 
ever, in  an  instant  by  saying,  '  Ah  !  1415,'  while  George  C , 

who  was  with  her,  coolly  asked  '  when  it  was  printed?  '  She 
turned  to  him  briskly,  and  said  at  once,  '  You  see  it  is  a  man- 
uscript,' which  satisfied  the  gentleman  of  the  bedchamber,  and 
saved  my  reply." 

MONCRIEF,  THE  DRAMATIST. 

"  October  17,  1839.  —  Went  with  W.  Harrison  Ainsworth  to 
call  on  Mr.  Moncrief,  author  of  the  forthcoming  version  of 
'Jack  Sheppard'  for  the  Victoria  Theatre.  Moncrief  was 
quite  blind,  but  remarkably  cheerful.  He  gave  us  in  detail 
the  outline  of  the  plot  as  he  had  arranged  it,  all  except  the 
conclusion,  which  had  not  as  yet  been  published  in  the  novel, 
but  which  Ainsworth  promised  to  send  him.  Moncrief,  in  a 
very  extraordinary  manner,  went  through  what  he  had  done, 
without  having  occasion  to  refer  to  any  book  or  person,  sing- 
ing the  songs  introduced,  and  reciting  all  the  material  points 
of  the  dialogue.  He  adverted  to  his  literary  controversy  with 


158  K  1C  HARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

Charles  Dickens,  respecting  the  dramatic  version  of  '  Nicho- 
las Nickleby,'  which  he  declared  he  would  never  have  written, 
had  Dickens  sent  him  a  note  to  say  it  would  be  disagreeable 
to  him." 

THE  SENTIMENTAL  CHILD. 

"  It  reminded  me  of  what  passed  between  myself  and  Dr. 
Wilmot's  little  daughter,  many  years  ago  ;  I  accompanied  the 
little  body,  a  fine,  intelligent,  and,  as  I  thought,  too  senti- 
mental child  of  nine  years  old,  out  into  the  poultry  yard,  to 
look  at  her  '  dear  little  chicks,'  during  the  awkward  half-hour 
before  dinner.  We  were  great  friends  ;  and  after  introducing 
me  to  the  'gray  hen  who  was  cluck]  and  to  the  'bantams,'  and 
to  the  '  everlasting  layers,'  I  was  at  length  ushered  to  the  pig- 
sty to  look  at  her  '  own  dear  little  pig,'  whom  '  she  loved  so 
much.'  All  due  commendation  was  of  course  lavished  on  my 
side  upon  such  a  pet  ;  and  when  we  took  leave  of  the  little 
brute,  whose  eyes  really  seemed  to  look  gratefully  towards  its 
too  partial  mistress,  the  young  lady  concluded  her  an  revoir 
with  4  Bless  you,  dear  little  piggy  !  how  pretty  you  are ;  and 
how  nice  you  will  be  when  we  come  to  eat  you  ! '  It  was  im- 
possible to  doubt  the  probability  of  the  prophecy  ;  but  how- 
ever I  might  revere  her  as  a  sage,  the  young  lady  sank  to  zero 
as  a  sentimentalist.  After  all  this  nouvelle  Heloise  was  right 
perhaps,  and  only  working  out  her  great  namesake's  prob- 
lem, — 

'"  What/*r*  we  doat  on,  when  \  isfifs  we  lovel ' " 

THE  UNLUCKY  PRESENT. 

An  old  gentleman,  a  merchant  in  Bush  Lane,  had  an  only 
daughter,  possessed  of  the  highest  attractions,  moral,  per- 
sonal, and  pecuniary  ;  she  was  engaged,  and  devotedly  at- 
tached, to  a  young  man  in  her  own  rank  of  life,  one  in  every 
respect  well  worthy  of  her  choice.  All  preliminaries  were 
arranged,  and  the  marriage,  after  two  or  three  postponements, 
was  fixed,  "  positively  for  the  last  time  of  marrying,"  to  take 
place  on  Thursday,  April  15,  18 — . 


THE   UNLUCKY  PRESENT.  159 

On  the  preceding  Monday,  the  bridegroom  elect  (who  was 
to  have  received  ,£10,000  down  on  his  wedding-day,  and  a 
further  sum  of  ,£30,000  on  his  father-in-law's  dying,  as  there 
was  hope  he  soon  would)  had  some  little  jealous  squabbling 
with  his  intended  at  an  evening  party  ;  the  "  tiff "  arose  in 
consequence  of  his  paying  more  attention  than  was  thought 
justifiable  to  a  young  lady  with  sparkling  eyes  and  inimitable 
ringlets.  The  gentleman  retorted,  and  spoke  slightingly  of  a 
certain  cousin,  whose  waistcoat  was  the  admiration  of  the  as- 
sembly, and  which,  it  was  hinted  darkly,  had  been  embroid- 
ered by  the  fair  hand  of  the  heiress  in  question.  He  added, 
in  conclusion,  that  it  would  be  time  enough  for  him  to  be 
schooled  when  they  were  married ;  that  (reader,  pardon  the 
unavoidable  expression  !)  she  was  "putting  on  the  breeches  "  a 
little  too  soon. 

After  supper,  both  the  lovers  had  become  more  cool ;  iced 
champagne  and  cold  chicken  had  done  their  work,  and  leave 
was  taken  by  the  bridegroom  in  posse,  in  terms  kindly  and 
affectionate,  if  not  so  enthusiastic  as  those  which  had  previ- 
ously terminated  their  meetings. 

On  the  next  morning,  the  swain  thought  with  some  remorse 
on  the  angry  feeling  he  had  exhibited,  and  the  cutting  sarcasm 
in  which  he  had  given  it  vent,  and,  as  a  part  of  his  amende 
honorable,  packed  up  with  great  care  a  magnificent  satin  dress, 
which  he  had  previously  bespoken  for  his  beloved,  and  which 
had  been  sent  home  to  him  in  the  interval,  and  transmitted  it 
to  the  lady,  with  a  note  to  the  following  effect :  — 

"  DEAREST  *  *  *,  —  I  have  been  unable  to  close  my  eyes 
all  night,  in  consequence  of  thinking  on  our  foolish  misunder- 
standing last  evening.  Pray,  pardon  me  ;  and,  in  token  of 
your  forgiveness,  deign  to  accept  the  accompanying  dress,  and 
wear  it  for  the  sake  of  your  ever  affectionate  *  *  *  " 

Having  written  the  note,  he  gave  it  to  his  shopman  to  de- 
liver with  the  parcel ;  but  as  a  pair  of  his  nether  garments 
happened,  at  the  time,  to  stand  in  need  of  repairing,  he  availed 
himself  of  the  opportunity  offered  by  his  servant  having  to 


I6O  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

pass  the  tailor's  shop,  in  his  way  to  Bush  Lane,  and  desired 
him  to  leave  them,  packed  in  another  parcel,  on  his  road. 

The  reader  foresees  the  inevitable  contretemps.  Yes,  the 
man  made  the  fatal  blunder !  consigned  the  satin  robes  to  Mr. 
Snip,  and  left  the  note,  together  with  the  dilapidated  habili- 
ment, at  the  residence  of  the  lady.  Her  indignation,  was 
neither  to  be  described  nor  appeased.  So  exasperated  was 
she,  at  what  she  considered  a  determined  and  deliberate 
affront,  that  when  her  admirer  called  she  ordered  the  door  to 
be  closed  in  his  face,  refused  to  listen  to  any  explanation,  and 
resolutely  broke  off  the  match.  Before  many  weeks  had 
elapsed,  means  were  found  to  make  her  acquainted  with  the 
history  of  the  objectionable  present,  but  she,  nevertheless,  ad- 
hered firmly  to  her  resolve,  deeply  lamenting  the  misadvent- 
ure, but  determined  not  to  let  the  burden  of  the  ridicule  rest 
upon  her. 

ANECDOTES. 

"Diary  :  July,  1842.  —  The  Bishop  of  London  mentioned 
that  at  the  recent  grand  meeting  at  Cambridge,  at  which  the 
Duke  of  Cambridge  attended,  he  (the  Bishop)  was  appointed 
to  preach,  and  had  no  sooner  commenced  with  '  Let  us  pray,' 
than  his  Royal  Highness  rose  up  in  the  pew  below,  and  ex- 
claimed with  great  fervor,  '  Certainly,  by  all  means.'  The 
Duke  used  invariably  to  read  aloud  all  the  service,  including 
the  Absolution  ;  and  when  the  King  of  Prussia  visited  St. 
Paul's,  I  saw  him  put  that  potentate  out  sadly  by  his  over- 
officiousness  in  finding  the  place  for  him  in  the  prayer-book. 
All  had  been  properly  marked,  but  his  Royal  Highness  took 
the  volume  from  him,  began  turning  it  over,  and  finally  left  his 
Majesty  in  much  greater  mystification  than  he  found  him.  He 
appears  to  be  a  really  devout  man,  but  is  absent  and  flighty. 

"  Tate  told  us  a  story  of  Mr.  Ottley,  a  great  connoisseur  in 
paintings  and  articles  of  virtu,  whom  I  once  met  at  his  house  — 
now  dead.  Ottley,  while  at  Rome,  when  all  the  treasures  of 
art  were  yet  contained  within  its  limits,  and  long  before  its 
spoliation  by  the  French,  was  much  bothered  by  foolish  peo- 
ple, who  inquired  of  him  whether  Raphael  or  Titian  or  Cor- 


FACETIAE.  l6l 

regio,  etc.,  was  the  best  painter,  to  whom  he  used  to  reply  by  a 
story  :  — 

"  There  was  an  old  woman,  living  at  Naples,  very  devout, 
who  went  to  her  confessor  on  a  case  of  conscience.  Her  ob- 
ject was  to  learn  whether  San  Gennaro  or  the  Virgin  Mary 
was  the  greater  Saint. 

" '  Why,  daughter,'  said  the  padre,  '  that  is  a  very  nice  ques- 
tion, and  perhaps  it  might  puzzle  the  Holy  Father  himself  to 
decide  upon  it.  However,  for  your  comfort  it  may  perhaps  be 
satisfactory  to  know  that  both  of  them  were  Apostles  ! ' 

"  I  mentioned  that,  examining  one  of  the  Sunday-school 
boys  at  Addington,  I  asked  him  what  a  prophet  was.  He  did 
not  know. 

" '  If  I  were  to  tell  you  what  would  happen  to  you  this  day 
twelve-month,  and  it  should  come  to  pass,  what  would  you  call 
me  then,  my  little  man  ? ' 

"  '  A  fortune-teller,  sir,'  said  the  boy. 

"There  was  an  end  of  the  examination  for  that  day." 

FACETIAE. 

"Diary :  May,  1843.  —  Dinner  of  the  Sons  of  the  Clergy  at 
Merchant  Tailors'  Hall.  The  Archbishop,  a  nervous  man 
[Dr.  Howley],  by  a  ludicrous  lapsus  lingua  gave  as  a  toast, 
instead  of  '  Prosperity  to  the  Merchant  Tailors'  Company,' 
'  Prosperity  to  the  Merchant  Company's  Tailor  ! ' 

"  Dr.  Taylor  read  to  me  the  following  extract  from  a  letter 
just  addressed  to  him  by  Archbishop  Whately  :  '  O'Connell 
has  spoilt  the  dog.  The  story  is  of  a  traveller,  who,  finding 
himself  and  his  dog  in  a  wild  country  and  destitute  of  provis- 
ions, cut  off  his  dog's  tail  and  boiled  it  for  his  own  supper, 
giving  the  "  dog  the  bone." ' 

"Abingdon,  a  gentleman  of  property,  first  an  amateur  and 
afterwards  a  professional  actor,  and  manager  of  the  Southamp- 
ton Theatre,  told  me  that  once,  when  he  was  playing  Hamlet 
there,  Rosencrantz,  who  ought  to  say,  — 

'  My  lord,  you  once  did  love  me,' 

forgot  his  part  and  failed  in  giving  the  cue,  till  the  prompter, 
it 


1 62  KICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

seeing  Hamlet  could  not  go  on  for  the  want  of  it,  stepped  for- 
ward and  said  — 

'  My  lord,  you  once  did  love  Ms  gentleman  /' 

This  enabled  Abingdon  to  reply  — 

1  And  do  still  by  these  pickers  and  stealers.' 

Like  most  good-natured  people  who  do  good-natured  things, 
the  prompter  got  hissed  by  the  audience  for  having  kept  the 
stage  so  long  in  waiting.  I  was  terribly  abused  by  the  mob 

once  for  going  to  bury  a  corpse  which  my  neighbor  H had 

forgotten,  after  it  had  been  detained  by  his  carelessness  more 
than  an  hour  in  the  church-yard." 

SYDNEY  SMITH'S  NOVEL. 

"Diary:  December  2,  1843.  —  Dined  at  Charles  Dickens's. 
Present  —  Sydney  Smith,  my  wife,  Serjeant  Talfourd,  Albany 

Fonblanque,  Miss  Eley,  Rev. Taggart,  Mrs.  Talfourd, 

Maclise,  Mr.  Forster,  Sam  Rogers,  etc.  Sydney  Smith  gave 
an  account  of  Colburn's  calling  upon  him  with  an  introduction 
from  Bulwer.  The  bibliopole,  he  said,  opened  with  a  condo- 
lence, delicately  conveyed,  on  his  recent  losses  in  American 
securities,  and  then  proposed,  by  way  of  repairing  them,  the 
production  of  a  novel  in  three  volumes,  for  which  he  should  be 
most  happy  to  treat  on  liberal  terms. 

'"Well,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Smith,  after  some  seeming  considera- 
tion, '  if  I  do  so,  I  can't  travel  out  of  my  own  line  —  ne  sutor 
ultra  crepidam,  you  know  —  I  must  have  an  archdeacon  for 
my  hero,  to  fall  in  love  with  the  pew-opener,  with  the  clerk  for 
a  confidant  —  tyrannical  interference  of  the  church-wardens  — 
clandestine  correspondence  concealed  under  the  hassocks  — 
appeal  to  the  parishioners,  etc.,  etc.' 

" '  With  that,  sir,'  said  Mr.  Colburn,  '  I  would  not  presume 
to  interfere  ;  I  would  leave  it  all  entirely  to  your  own  inventive 
genius.' 

" '  Well,  sir,'  returned  the  canon,  with  urbanity,  '  I  am  not 
prepared  to  come  to  terms  at  present ;  but  if  ever  I  do  under- 
take such  a  work,  you  shall  certainly  have  the  refusal.' " 


PARSON  O'BEIRNE'S  SERMON.  163 

DUKE  OF  SUSSEX  AND  MR.  OFFOR. 

For  some  years  during  the  latter  portion  of  his  life  my 
father  devoted  much  of  his  leisure,  not  only  to  the  prosecu- 
tion of  genealogical  and  antiquarian  inquiries,  to  which  he 
had  always  been  addicted,  but  also  to  the  acquiring  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  various  editions  of  the  Bible.  His  means  were 
not  sufficiently  ample  to  enable  him  to  form  a  collection  of  the 
rarer  copies,  but  he  made  himself  well  acquainted  with  those 
extant,  and  expended  a  great  deal  of  time  and  industry,  to  the 
severe  injury  of  his  eyesight,  in  preparing  fac-similes  of  the  re- 
markable passages  and  wood-cuts  by  which  the  various  trans- 
lations are  distinguished.  In  this  pursuit  he  received  consid- 
erable assistance  from  Mr.  George  Offor,  whose  library  was 
especially  rich  in  specimens  of  early  typography.  Of  these 
the  choicest  were  very  wisely  kept  behind  a  screen  of  brass- 
work,  securely  locked,  a  circumstance  which  Mr.  Offor  used 
to  say  immediately  attracted  the  notice  of  the  Duke  of  Sus- 
sex, when  his  Royal  Highness  honored  him  with  a  visit. 

"  Ah  !  I  see,"  said  the  Duke,  "  you  lock  up  your  best  books 
—  very  necessary,  very  proper  —  no  collector  is  to  be  trusted  ; 
they  are  all  thieves,  every  one  of  them  !  " 

"  I  presume,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Offor,  with  a  low  bow,  "  I 
might  suggest  an  exception  ?  " 

"  You  mean  me  ?  Oh  !  you  're  quite  mistaken  —  I  could  n't 
resist  the  temptation,  if  it  came  in  my  way,  better  than  any 
one  else." 

PARSON  O'BEIRNE'S  SERMON. 

"Diary:  May  n,  1844. —  Dined  at  Sir  Thomas  Wilde's. 
Among  the  company — Sir  John  Hobhouse,  Mr.  and  Lady 
Anne  Welby,  Mr.  Horsman,  Tom  Duncombe,  etc.  Hob- 
house  told  a  story  of  the  Rev.  —  commonly  called  '  Parson  '  — 
O'Beirne,  which  he  had  from  old  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan. 
Sheridan  had  been  dining  with  O'Beirne,  and,  it  being  Satur- 
day, the  host  was  anxious  to  bring  the  sitting  to  an  earlier 
termination  than  usual,  as  he  had  no  sermon  ready  for  next 
day.  Sheridan  pleaded  hard  for  another  bottle. 


164  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

"'Then  you  must  write  a  sermon  for  me,' was  O'Beirne's 
answer,  which  Sheridan  at  once  undertook  to  do.  There  was 

a  certain  Mr. ,  a  neighboring  squire,  who  was  proverbial 

for  grinding  the  poor,  and  had  recently  prosecuted  some  of 
the  laborers  in  the  parish  for  stealing  turnips.  Sheridan's 
sermon,  which,  true  to  his  word,  he  produced  in  the  morning, 
was  a  regular  attack  upon  this  gentleman.  It  was  filled  with 
all  sorts  of  pretended  quotations  from  St.  Paul  and  the  Fa- 
thers, sentences  denouncing  illiberality,  tyranny,  and  oppres- 
sion of  the  poor,  some  of  them  referring  particularly  to  the 
especial  sinfulness  of  prosecutions  for  stealing  turnips.  Mr. 
O'Beirne,  who  had  no  time  to  read  over  the  composition  be- 
fore morning  prayers,  commenced  his  discourse  and  went  on 
with  it  till  he  fairly  drove  the  indignant  squire  out  of  the 
church.  The  latter,  indeed,  was  so  savage  at  the  personal- 
ities, that  he  made  a  formal  complaint  to  the  bishop  of  the 
diocese. 

"  '  And  how  did  the  matter  end  ?  '  asked  Hobhouse. 

" '  Oh,  just  as  such  a  thing  should  end,'  said  Sheridan  ; 
'  O'Beirne  got  a  better  living  ! '  "* 

1  The  Rev.  Thomas  Lewis  O'Beirne,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Meath,  is  evidently 
the  person  here  referred  to.  A  somewhat  more  probable  version  of  the  story  is 
given  in  Sluridaniana.  It  is  there  stated  that  Mr.  O'Beirne,  having  arrived  at 
Sheridan's  house,  near  Osterley,  was  requested  to  preach  on  the  following  Sunday, 
but,  having  no  sermon,  accepted  Sheridan's  offer  to  provide  one.  Next  morning  Mr. 
O'Beirne  found  the  manuscript  by  his  bedside,  the  subject  of  the  discourse  being  the 
"  Abuse  of  Riches."  Having  read  it  over,  and  corrected  some  theological  errors 
(such  as  "it  is  easier  for  a  camel,"  as  Moses  says,  etc.),  he  delivered  the  sermon  in 
his  most  impressive  style,  much  to  the  delight  of  his  own  party,  and  to  the  satisfac- 
tion, as  he  unsuspectingly  flattered  himself,  of  all  the  rest  of  the  congregation,  among 

whom  was  Mr.  Sheridan's  wealthy  neighbor,  Mr.  C .     Some  months  afterwards, 

however,  Mr.  O'Beirne  perceived  that  the  family  of  Mr.  C ,  with  whom  he  h.id 

been  previously  intimate,  treated  him  with  marked  coldness,  and,  on  his  expressii  g 
some  innocent  wonder  at  the  circumstance,  was  at  length  informed,  to  his  dismay, 
by  General  Burgoyne,  that  the  sermon  which  Sheridan  had  written  for  him  was 
throughout  a  personal  attack  upon  Mr.  C ,  who  had  at  that  time  rendered  him- 
self very  unpopular  in  the  neighborhood  by  some  harsh  conduct  to  the  poor,  and  to 
whom  every  one  in  the  church,  except  the  unconscious  preacher,  applied  almost 
every  sentence  of  the  sermon.  —  Sheridaniana. 


A  NOBLEMAN  WHO  WOULD  SELL  ANYTHING.   165 

A  NOBLEMAN  WHO  WOULD  SELL  ANYTHING. 

"  On  our  way  to  Dover  Sir  W.  Betham  told  us  a  story  of 

Lord  M ,  a  gentleman  who  would  sell  anything,  even  the 

commissions  in  the  militia  regiment  he  commanded,  and  when 
it  was  objected  to  him  replied  that  he  did  it  '  to  assimilate  his 
regiment  as  much  as  possible  to  the  line,  which  was  in  general 
orders.'  A  pew  in  a  parish  church  near  his  family  property 
was  supposed  to  belong  to  him,  and  the  building  having  been 
repaired,  three  old  ladies  were  anxious  to  possess  what  it  is 
scarcely  necessary  to  say  was  of  little  use  to  his  lordship. 
One  of  them  waited  on  him  at  the  barracks,  and  proposed 
purchase. 

"  '  Oh,  bother,  Ma'am,  divil  a  pew  has  my  Lord  M in 

any  such  place.' 

" '  Ah  then  and  indeed  it 's  your  lordship's  own,  and  sure 
everybody  says  so.' 

" '  Everybody  lies,  sure  —  but  what  is  it,  ma'am,  ye  '11  be 
giving  for  the  pew  ?  ' 

"  After  a  little  hesitation  and  fencing,  the  lady  offered  to 
give  twenty  pounds  for  the  pew  rather  than  suffer  Mrs.  Ma- 
grath  to  take  her  place  in  it. 

" '  Twenty  pounds  !  is  it  twenty  pounds  !  twenty  pounds 
rather  than  be  bragged  by  Mrs.  Magrath  !  Sure  it 's  forty 
pounds  ye  mane  —  Oh,  it 's  a  beautiful  pew  ! ' 

"  The  old  lady  stood  out  for  twenty,  but  his  lordship  was 
firm,  and  at  last  she  agreed  to  give  the  sum  demanded  rather 
than  be  '  bragged '  by  Molly  Magrath.  His  lordship  there- 
fore made  over  his  right  and  title  to  the  pew  in  something  like 

the  following  words  :  '  Lord  M agrees  to  sell  to  Mrs. 

Bridget  Maloney  all  his  right  and  title,  if  he  has  any,  to  a  pew 
in  the  parish  church  of for  value  this  day  received.' 

"  The  lady  had  scarcely  retired  when  another  was  announced 
on  the  same  errand,  who  succeeded  in  making  the  same  pur- 
chase on  rather  reduced  terms,  as  eventually  did  also  a  third. 
On  the  following  Sunday  the  case  of  title  was  of  course  warmly 
gone  into,  all  the  three  parties  claiming  possession.  After  some 


1 66  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

pains  had  been  taken  in  the  inquiry,  the  dispute  was  decided 
in  favor  of  a  fourth  claimant,  whose  uncle  had  bought  the  pew 

years  before  of  Lord  M 's  father.  This  decision  brought 

all  the  three  purchasers  back  to  the  barracks  in  the  hope  of 
getting  their  money  again,  but  '  any  restitution '  formed  no 
part  of  Lord  M 's  politics. 

" '  Sure  he  had  sold  them  the  pew  if  he  had  got  one,  and  if 
he  had  not  how  could  he  help  it ! ' 

"  '  But  you  must  give  us  our  money  back,  my  lord,  anyhow.' 

" '  Aisy,  aisy  !  how  will  I  do  that,  I  'd  be  proud  to  know, 
when  it 's  all  spent  and  gone  —  every  farthing  of  it  ?  ' 

" '  But  if  you  don't  we  shall  tell  everybody,  and  then  what 
becomes  of  my  Lord  M 's  character  ?  ' 

" '  Oh,  tell  away  and  welcome  ;  the  character 's  spent  and 
gone  too,  and  long  before,  for  the  matter  of  that.'  And  so 
the  matter  terminated." 

SCRAPS. 

"No  date.  Dined  at  the  Adolphuses :  met  there  a  Mr.  or 
Doctor  Vicesimus  Knox,  who  talked  away  famously  and  was 

very  funny.  Told  us  of  a  story  of  a  Mr. ,  and  how  he 

thought  the  word  '  clause '  of  an  Act  of  Parliament  was  the 
plural  number,  and  asked  him,  the  said  Vicesimus,  which  claw 
of  the  Act  he  was  speaking  of. 

"  Chief  Justice  Bushe  was  dining  with  the  late  Duke  of 
Richmond,  when  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  at  Sir  Wheeler 
Cuff's.  On  their  entertainer  getting  drunk  and  falling  from 
his  chair,  the  Duke  good-naturedly  endeavored  to  lift  him  up, 
when  Bushe  exclaimed,  '  How,  your  Grace !  you,  an  Orange- 
man and  a  Protestant,  assist  in  elevating  the  host ! '  Told  to 
me  by  Dr.  Hume." 

"  Serjeant  Murphy  observing  part  of  the  Bench  (including 
Sir  C.  Williams)  leaving  the  court  early,  while  two  only  re- 
mained to  finish  the  causes,  said,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by 
all  present,  '  As  a  papist,  I  am  not  of  course  permitted  to  know 
much  of  Scripture,  or  I  should  say,  there  is  on  one  side  Ex- 
odus and  on  the  other  Judges." 


SCRAPS.  167 

"  When  a  certain  Mr. ,  of  the  Temple,  was  expelled 

from  that  Society  by  the  Benchers  for  conduct  unbecoming  a 
gentleman,  Thesiger,  who  is  a  very  kind-hearted  man,  was 
much  affected  by  the  situation  of  his  wife  and  children,  who 
would  necessarily  be  ruined  by  the  decision,  and  burst  into 
tears. 

"  '  Well,'  said  he  afterwards  to  Rose,  who  was  then  Judge 
of  the  Court  of  Review,  '  I  should  never  do  for  a  Criminal 
Judge,  and  after  the  way  in  which  I  have  exposed  my  weak- 
ness to-day,  you  will  agree  with  me.' 

4< '  Why,  yes,'  said  Rose,  '  I  think  you  would  make  an  in- 
different Judge,  but  then,  you  know,  you  would  make  an  un- 
commonly good  Cryer.'  " 

"  Sydney  Smith,  speaking  of  his  being  shampooed  at  Ma- 
homet's Baths  at  Brighton  in  1840,  said  they  'squeezed 
enough  out  of  him  to  make  a  lean  curate.'  " 

"  Hearing  Shutte's  little  girl  give  vent  to  a  prolonged  '  Oh  ! ' 
at  the  sight  of  a  dahlia,  he  (Sydney  Smith)  said  '  it  was  worth 
a  page  of  eulogy.'  " 

"In  Brazil,  an  opinion  prevails  that  whoever  has  been  bitten 
by  a  boa-constrictor  has  nothing  to  fear  from  any  other  snake. 
What  a  happy  illustration  of  a  man  who  has  undergone  a 
blackguarding  from  O'Connell  !  " 

The  following  was  an  early  hoax  upon  a  Canterbury  paper, 
and  was  freely  copied  by  the  provincial  press  :  — 

"  fact  for  the  Naturalist.  —  A  terrier  dog  in  Romney 
Marsh,  having  been  desperately  maltreated  and  bitten  by  a 
savage  mastiff,  ran  off  nine  miles  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Strick- 
land, a  justice  of  the  peace,  where  he  had  often  before  been 
with  his  master,  who  was  a  parish  constable  ;  he  got  into  the 
library,  jumped  upon  Mr.  Strickland's  table,  seized  a  blank  as- 
sault warrant  in  his  jaws,  and  bolted  with  it ;  he  then  ran  back 
to  his  master  with  the  instrument  in  his  mouth,  and  wagging 
his  tail,  did  all  in  his  power  to  induce  the  latter  to  follow  him 
and  take  his  assailant  into  custody.  It  cannot,  however,  fail 
to  be  remarked,  how  the  omission  to  obtain  a  signature  to  the 
paper  serves  to  confirm  the  fact,  that  the  sagacity  of  the  most 


l68  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

intelligent  brute  never  passes  that  mysterious  line  which  in- 
variably separates  instinct  from  reason." 

'•  Judge  Afaule.  —  A  young  barrister  pleading  before  Judge 
Maule,  described  an  attorney's  bill  as  '  a  diabolical  one.' 
'  That  may  be,'  said  the  Judge,  '  but  the  devil  must  have  his 
due.  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you  will  find  for  the  plaintiff.'  " 

Seeing  Richard  Price  at  the  Garrick  with  half  a  pint  of  port, 
he  accused  him  of  studying  "  Winer's  abridgment." 

"  When  George  IV.  was  at  Lord  Lothian's  during  his  visit 
to  Scotland,  the  youngest  scion  of  the  family  was  a  little  im- 
pudent, spoiled  boy  in  petticoats,  who  had  got  a  way  of  calling 
everybody  '  you  old  fat  goose.'  The  King  inquiring  as  to  the 
number  of  her  ladyship's  children,  was  informed  of  course, 
and  also  of  course  desired  to  see  them  all.  This  little  urchin, 
therefore,  whom  they  had  intended  to  keep  out  of  f  he  way,  was 
perforce  exhibited,  when  his  father  seeing  the  twinkle  in  his 
eye  and  the  curl  of  his  lip  which  betokened  the  forthcoming 
expression,  caught  him  up  in  his  arms,  while  the  mother  sat  in 
agony,  and  bore  him  out  of  the  room  just  in  time  to  prevent 
the  explosion." 

"  Ensign  White  of  the  Forty-fourth,  the  regiment  that  was 
so  cut  up  in  India,  told  me  that  on  the  march  to  Scinde,  they 
used  to  encourage  private  theatricals  among  the  soldiers  to 
keep  them  out  of  mischief.  On  one  occasion,  when  Richard 
III.  was  the  play,  the  Catesby  of  the  evening  (a  worthy  and 
gallant  corporal)  thus  addressed  his  sovereign  :  — 

"  '  'T  is  I,  my  lord,  —  the  early  village  cock 
Has  been  crowing  away  this  half  hour, 
Your  friends  are  up  and  buckle  on  their  armor  — 
And  why  ain't  you  a  buckling  on  o*  yourn?'  " 

A  FRENCHMAN'S  CRITICISM. 

"  Wallaces  account  of  French  criticism.  —  When  in  Amer- 
ica, Mr.  Wallack  became  associated  with  a  French  actor, 
a  great  admirer  of  Shakespeare,  but  who  wished  to  become 
more  familiarized  with  his  beauties.  Wallack  being  an  in- 
different French  scholar,  it  was  agreed  that  instruction  should 


MACREADY  IN  AMERICA.  169 

be  mutual ;  that  the  Frenchman  should  give  lessons  in  his 
own  language,  which  Wallack  should  return  by  lending  his 
assistance  towards  producing  a  more  perfect  understanding, 
on  the  part  of  his  tutor,  of  the  bard  who  '  was  not  for  an  age 
but  for  all  time.' 

" '  Ah  !  mafoi,  dat  is  eet,  Racine  is  good,  Corneille  is  good, 
but  Mons.  Shakespeare  —  he  is  de  bard  of  all  time,  of  nature, 
of  what  you  call  common  sense  —  so  everybody  say.' 

"  Wallack  proposed,  by  way  of  commencement,  that  his  new 
friend,  who  knew  enough  of  English  to  read,  though  not  to 
relish  his  author,  should  go  over  attentively  and  make  him- 
self master  of  the  text  of  a  play,  which  his  preceptor  should 
afterwards  read  over  again  with  him,  explaining  difficulties 
and  expounding  beauties.  '  Macbeth  '  was  selected,  but  they 
did  not  get  beyond  the  first  scene. 

" '  Mons.  Vallake,  you  have  told  me  dat  Shakespeare  is  de 
poet  of  nature  and  common  sense  ;  good  !  now  vat  is  dis  ? 
Here  is  his  play  open  —  Macbess  —  yes  !  good,  very  good  — 
well,  here  is  tree  old  —  old  vat  you  call  veetch,  vid  de  broom 
and  no  close  on  at  all — yes!  upon  the  blasted  heath  — 
good  !  von  veetch  say  to  de  oder  veetch,  '  ven  shall  ve  tree 
meet  agen  ? '  De  other  veetch  she  say  —  "  in  tondare  !  "  de 
other  she  say  ''in  lightning  !  "  —  and  she  say  to  dem  herself 
again  "  in  rain  !  "  Eh  bien  !  now  dis  is  not  nature  !  dis  is  not 
common  sense  !  Oh,  no  !  De  tree  old  veetch  shall  nevare  go 
out  to  meet  again  upon  de  blasted  heath  with  no  close  on  in 
tondare,  lightning,  and  in  rain.  Ah  no  !  It  is  not  common 
sense  !  mafoi,  dey  stay  at  home  !  aha  ! ' 

"  Of  course  there  was  no  possibility  of  proceeding  with 
such  a  critic,  and  the  arrangement  ceased." 

MACREADY  IN  AMERICA. 

"Diary:  December  5,  1844.  —  Dined  with  Charles  Dickens, 
Stanfield,  Maclise,  and  Albany  Fonblanque  at  Forster's. 
Dickens  read  with  remarkable  effect  his  Christmas  story,  'The 
Chimes,'  from  the  proofs.  Anecdote  told  of  Macready  at  New 
Orleans  looking  at  a  paper  in  the  reading-room,  when  a  stranger 


1 70  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

put  his  arm  across  his  (Macready's)  neck,  and,  leaning  on  his 
shoulder,  asked  if  he  knew  Colonel  Johnson  ? 

"  Macready,  shrinking  from  the  familiarity,  replied  coldly 
enough,  '  No,  sir,  I  do  not.' 

"  '  Well  I  guess  now  he  'd  like  to  know  you.' 

"  '  Possibly,  sir.' 

" '  Well  now,  Colonel  Johnson,  walk  this  way  ;  I  calculate 
this  is  Mr.  Macready,  the  British  actor.' 

" '  And  pray  who  are  you,  sir  ? '  demanded  Macready. 

"'Me?  Oh,  I  guess  I'm  Major  Hitchins,  I  am.  What, 
you  're  ryled  a  leetle  grain,  are  you  ?  You  '11  have  to  get  over 
that  if  you  mean  to  progress  in  this  great  country,  sir.'  Free 
and  enlightened  society  this,  at  any  rate  !  " 

BARHAM'S  SURGEON. 

"  And  now  as  to  our  state  here,  —  it  is  mended,  and  I  would 
fain  hope  mending,  but  very,  very  slowly.  I  am  still  not  al- 
lowed —  nor  if  I  were  could  I  avail  myself  of  the  permission 
—  to  answer,  except  in  a  whisper,  and  that  only  to  ask  for 
what  I  want,  and  answer  medical  inquiries.  Luckily  I  have 
assigned  to  me  one  of  the  greatest  chatterboxes  of  a  surgeon, 
to  take  the  poking  and  blistering  department  of  my  treatment 
upon  him,  that  can  well  be  imagined.  If  in  the  multitude  of 
counselors  there  be  wisdom,  in  that  of  apothecaries  there  is 
jaw,  and  with  such  a  one  as  my  adviser  possesses,  Samson 
might  have  laid  waste  all  Mesopotamia,  let  alone  Philistia. 
He  has  the  art  of  saying  nothing  in  a  cascade  of  language 
comparable  only  to  that  '  almighty  water  privilege,'  Niagara, 
and  were  I  in  better  spirits  would  delight  instead  of  boring  me. 
Gait's  '  wearif u'  woman  '  was  but  a  type  of  him. 

"  '  Well,  sir,  how  are  we  to  day  —  better,  eh  !  well,  sir,  go  on 
with  the  iodine  ?  does  it  act  ? ' 

"  •  Why  that  is  what  I  wanted  to  ask,  how  do  you  mean  it  to 
act  ?  as  a  sudorific  ? ' 

" '  Diaphoretic  we  say,  not  but  sudorific  will  do  ;  it  comes 
from  siH/n.  but  we  seldom  now  say  sudorific  ;  but,  sir,  the  iodine, 
does  it  act  ?  ' 


BARHAM'S  SURGEON.  \Jl 

"  '  That  is  what  I  want  to  know  ;  how  do  you  mean  it  to  act, 
on  the  throat  or '  — 

"  '  Act  ?  iodine  ?  on  the  throat  ?  why  the  throat,  sir,  is  very 
singularly  constructed  —  very  singularly;  it's  beautiful,  the 
mechanism  of  the  throat !  If  it  gets  out  of  order —  now  yours, 
sir,  is  out  of  order,  and  we  have  been  giving  you  iodine  —  for 

Mr. agrees  with  me  that  iodine  is  an  excellent  medicine, 

and  what  I  want  to  know  is,  does  it  begin  to  produce  any  effect  ?  " 

" '  Why  that  is  what  I  want  to  know,  and  therefore  I  ask 
what  effect  is  it  intended  to  produce,  is  it  to  act  on  '  — 

"  '  What  effect  ?  my  dear  sir,  there  are  few  medicines  now  in 
better  repute  than  iodine  ;  we  give  it  in  many  cases  —  dropsy, 
sometimes  —  not  that  yours  is  dropsy  ;  you  have  nothing 
dropsical  about  you  ;  your  complaint  is  an  affection  of  the 
throat,  and  we  have  been  giving  iodine  in  your  case  —  you 
have  had  it  now  three  days  —  twice  a  day.  Do  you  take  it  reg- 
ularly twice  a  day  ?  ' 

" '  I  take  what  you  send  me  twice  a  day,  and  you  tell  me  it 
is  iodine,  but'  — 

" '  And  does  it  begin  to  produce  its  effect ;  does  it  act  ? ' 

" '  Why  that 's  what  I  'm  asking  you  —  now  is  it  intended  to 
act  as  a  sedative,  or'  — 

" '  A  sedative  ?  what,  is  your  cough  more  troublesome  ?  We 
give  sedatives  sometimes  for  troublesome  coughs,  and  then 
in  nervous  complaints,  but  then  congestion  is  a  thing  to  be 
avoided,  not  that  I  see  any  symptoms  of  congestion  in  your  case  ; 
yours  is  an  affection  of  the  throat,  and  so  we  give  you  iodine, 
and  as  we  are  a  little  particular  in  proportioning  our  doses, 
I  want  to  ascertain  whether  what  you  have  been  taking  acts  ? ' 

"Oh  dear,  oh  dear  !  never  were  two  philosophers  more  deeply 
engaged  in  pursuing  the  same  inquiry,  each  endeavoring  to  ex- 
tract information  out  of  the  other.  And  then  such  lectures  on 
the  '  anatomy  of  the  parts,'  '  the  beautiful  mechanism,  etc.'  ! 
that  I,  who  never  yet  could  comprehend  the  mechanism  of  a 
mousetrap,  and  hardly  that  of  a  poacher's  wire,  am  just  in  the 
position  of  a  blind  man  listening  to  a  discourse  on  colors,  and 
yet  in  the  end  completely  worked  up  into  a  something  derived 


172  RICHARD  HARRIS  BARHAM. 

from  sudo.  Heaven  knows  I  am  at  this  moment  as  innocent 
of  any  knowledge  of  the  mode  of  operation  of  '  iodine  '  as  a 
'blessed  babe,'  though  taking  'two  tablespoonfuls  a  day  '  with 
this  tea-spoonful  of  learning,  and  only  hope  for  your  sake,  as 
well  as  my  own  reputation  for  good  manners,  that  it  is  in  no  un- 
seemly one." 

THE   BULLETIN. 

9  DOWRY  SQUARE,  HOT  WELLS,  May  29,  i?45- 

Hark !  —  the  doctors  come  again, 
Knock  —  and  enter  doctors  twain  — 
Dr.  Keeler,  Dr.  Blane  :  — 
"  Well,  sir,  how 

Go  matters  now  ? 

Please  your  tongue  put  out  again  !  " 
Meanwhile,  t'  other  side  the  bed, 

Doctor  Keeler 

Is  a  feeler 

Of  my  wrist,  and  shakes  his  head :  — 
"  Rather  low,  we're  rather  low!  " 
(Deuce  is  in  't,  an'  't  were  not  so  1 
Arrowroot,  and  toast-and-water, 
Being  all  my  nursing  daughter, 
By  their  order,  now  allows  me  ; 
If  I  hint  at  more  she  rows  me, 
Or  at  best  will  let  me  soak  a 
Crust  of  bread  in  tapioca.) 
"  Cool  and  moist  though,  let  me  see  — 
Seventy-two,  or  seventy-three, 
Seventy-four,  perhaps,  or  so ; 
Rather  low,  we  re  rather  low  ! 
Now,  what  sort  of  night,  sir,  eh  ? 
Did  you  take  the  mixture,  pray  ? 

Iodine  and  anodyne, 

Ipecacuanha  wine, 
And  the  draught  and  pills  at  nine  ?  " 

PATIENT  (loquitur). 
"  Coughing,  doctor,  coughing,  sneezing, 
Wheezing,  teasing,  most  unpleasing. 
Till  at  length  I ,  by  degrees,  in-  . 

Duced  '  Tired  nature's  sweet  restorer,' 
Sleep,  to  caM  her  mantle  o'er  her 
Poor  unfortunate  adorer, 
And  became  at  last  a  snorer. 

Iodine  and  anodyne, 

Ipecacuanha  wine, 


THE  BULLETIN.  173 

Nor  the  draughts  did  I  decline  ; 
But  those  horrid  pills  at  nine  ! 
Those  I  did  not  try  to  swallow, 
Doctor,  they  'd  have  beat  me  hollow. 

I  as  soon 

Could  gulp  the  moon, 
Or  the  great  Nassau  balloon, 
Or  a  ball  for  horse  or  hound,  or 
Bullet  for  an  eighteen-pounder. " 

DOCTOR  K. 

"  Well,  sir  —  well,  sir  —  we  '11  arrange  it, 
If  you  can't  take  pills,  we  ;11  change  it ; 

Take,  we  '11  say, 

A  powder  gray, 
All  the  same  to  us  which  way  ; 

Each  will  do ; 

But,  sir,  you 

Must  perspire  whate'er  you  do, 
(Sudorific  comes  from  sudo  /) 
Very  odd,  sir,  how  our  wills 
Interfere  with  taking  pills! 
I  've  a  patient,  sir,  a  lady 
Whom  I  've  told  you  of  already, 

She  '11  take  potions, 

She'll  take  lotions, 

She  '11  take  drugs,  and  draughts  by  oceans  ; 
She'll  take  rhubarb,  senna,  rue  ; 
She  '11  take  powders  gray  and  blue, 
Tinctures,  mixtures,  linctures,  squills, 
But,  sir,  she  will  not  take  pills ! 
Now  the  throat,  sir,  how 's  the  throat  ?  " 

PATIENT. 

"  Why,  I  can  't  produce  a  note ! 

I  can't  sound  one  word,  I  think,  whole, 

But  they  hobble, 

And  they  gobble, 

Just  like  soapsuds  down  a  sink-hole, 
Or  I  whisper  like  the  breeze, 
Softly  sighing  through  the  trees  !  " 

DOCTOR. 

"  Well,  sir  —  well,  sir  —  never  mind,  sir, 
We'll  put  all  to  rights,  you'll  find,  sir: 
Make  no  speeches, 
Get  some  leeches ; 
You  '11  find  twenty 
Will  be  plenty, 


174  RICHARD  HARRIS  BAR  HAM. 

Clap  them  on,  and  let  them  lie 

On  \\\c  pomum  Adatni; 

Let  them  well  the  trachea  drain, 

And  your  larynx, 

And  your  pharynx  — 
Please  put  out  your  tongue  again  1 

Now  the  blister! 

Aye,  the  blister  1 
Let  your  son,  or  else  his  sister, 
Warm  it  well,  then  clap  it  here,  sir, 
All  across  from  ear  to  ear,  sir ; 

That  suffices, 

When  it  rises, 

Snip  it,  sir,  and  then  your  throat  on 
Rub  a  little  oil  of  Croton  : 
Never  mind  a  little  pain  ! 
Please  put  out  your  tongue  again  I 
Now,  sir,  I  must  down  your  maw  stick 
This  small  sponge  of  lunar  caustic, 

Never  mind,  sir, 

You'll  not  find,  sir, 
I,  the  sponge  shall  leave  behind,  sir, 
Or  my  probang  make  you  sick,  sir, 
I  shall  draw  it  back  so  quick,  sir; — 
This  I  call  my  prime  elixir  1 

How,  sir  !  choking  ? 

Pooh!  you 're  joking  — 
Bless  me!  this  is  quite  provoking! 
What  can  mak{  you,  sir,  so  wheezy? 
Stay,  sir !  —  gently !  —  take  it  easy ! 

There,  sir,  that  will  do  to-day. 

Sir,  I  think  that  we  may  say 

We  are  better,  doctor,  eh  ? 
Don't  you  think  so,  Doctor  Blane  ? 
Please  put  out  your  tongue  again  I 

Iodine  and  anodyne, 

Ipecacuanha  wine, 
And  since  you  the  pills  decline, 
Draught  and  powder  gray  at  nine. 
There,  sir!  there,  sir!  now  good-day, 
I  've  a  lady  'cross  the  way, 
I  must  see  without  delay  I  "  [K.rfunt  Doctor*. 

TO  THE  GARRICK  CLUB. 

Ye  shepherds  give  ear  to  my  lay, 

Who  have  nothing  to  do  about  sheep, 
While,  as  Shenstone,  the  poet,  would  say,  — 

I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  weep. 


TO    THE   GARRICK  CLUB.  175 

For  here  I  sit  all  the  day  long, 

And  must  do  so,  I  dare  say,  all  June, 
While  so  far  from  singing  a  song, 

I  can't  even  whistle  a  tune. 

For  the  probang,  the  blister,  and  leech, 

So  completely  my  notes  have  o'erthrown, 
When  I  try  the  sweet  music  of  speech, 

I  start  at  the  sound  of  my  own. 

It's  useless  attempting  to  speak, 

For  my  voice  is  beyond  my  control ; 
If  high,  it's  an  ear-piercing  squeak, 

If  low,  it 's  a  grunt  or  a  growl  ! 

Can  Clifton  those  beauties  assume, 

Which  patients  have  found  in  her  face, 
When  shut  up  all  day  in  a  room, 

One  can't  get  a  peep  at  the  place  ? 

Ye  Garrickers,  making  your  sport, 

As  ye  revel  in  gossip  and  grub, 
Oh  !  send  some  endearing  report 

Of  how  matters  go  on  at  the  Club. 

When  I  think  on  the  rapid  mail  train, 

In  a  moment  I  seem  to  be  there, 
But  the  sight  of  N.  E.  on  the  vane 

Soon  hurries  me  back  to  despair. 

The  Committee,  oh,  say  do  they  send 

A  blessing  —  or  ban  —  after  me  ? 
Mr.  Gwilt,  does  he  duly  attend 

To  his  salad  and  little  roti? 

Davy  Roberts,  that  glorious  R.  A., 

Does  he  still  smoke  his  hookha  in  peace/ 
Is  Millingen  there  every  day? 

Is  Mills  a  trustee  to  the  lease  ? 

Does  the  claret  suit  Thornton  ?  and  how 

Does  Lord  Tenterden  like  the  cigars  ? 
Has  any  one  yet  in  a  row 

Kicked  impudent down-stairs  ? 

For  methought  that  a  sweet  little  bird 

In  my  ear  of  its  likelihood  sung, 
And  I  loved  it  the  more  when  I  heard 

Such  tenderness  fall  from  its  tongue. 

Oh,  say  is  the  story  a  hoax, 
Or  one  to  be  classed  nmons:  fibs. 


176  K  1C  HARD  HARRIS  BAKU  AM. 

.        That  Murphy 's  upset  with  his  jokes 

Colonel  Sibthorpe,  and  broken  his  ribs  ? 

Has  Durant  got  rid  of  his  cough  ? 

Are  Sav'ry's  rheumatics  quite  gone  ? 
And  how  do  the  dinners  go  off, 

And  how  does  the  ballot  go  on  ? 

Does  Stanhope's  good  humor  endure  ? 

What  are  White  and  Sir  Henry  about  / 
Is  Talfourd  gone  up  to  his  tour, 

Or  Arden  gone  down  to  his  trout  ? 

Does  the  Cook  keep  his  character  still  ? 

Has  the  Fishmonger  been  in  disgrace 
For,  in  lieu  of  a  turbot  or  brill, 

Substituting  a  horrible  plaice  ? 

Does  Calcraft,  who  saved  us  from  blazing, 

Still  watch  o'er  our  int'rests  at  night  ? 
Does  Ovey  still  drive  up  his  chaise  in  ? 

Is  Rainy  as  ever  polite  ? 

Charles  Kcmble,  his  nose  is  it  aching 

As  yet  from  his  fall,  or  got  well  ? 
Has  Harley  decided  on  making 

Miss a  church-going  belle  ? 

Is  Titmarsh  on  anything  clever, 

Or  bent  on  returning  to  France  ? 
Is  I'lanclie  as  bustling  as  ever, 

Avowedly  going  to  Dance  ?  ' 

Say  where  —  but  ah  me !  wherefore  ask 

When  there 's  none  to  reply  or  to  care, 
And  Echo  herself  scorns  the  task 

Of  answering  gloomily  "  Where  ? " 

But  Fladgate  will  write,  or  George  Raymond,  — 

His  muse  will  not  surely  decline 
For  one  moment  to  turn  from  the  gay  /«<>«</<•, 

And  sympathize  sadly  with  mine. 

Perhaps  you  '11  consider  it  silly 

To  end  with  a  rascally  pun, 
But  as  I  have  thus  done  my  billet, 

Oh,  send  me  back  one  HI! ft  doitt ." 

1  Mescrt.  Planchl  and  Dance,  the  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  of  burlesque. 
1  Query? — An  allusion  to  Mr.  William  —  more  commonly  called  Billy  —  Dunn, 
Treasurer  of  Drury  Lane  Tlieatre. 


WILLIAM    HARNESS. 


12 


WILLIAM    HARNESS. 


LORD  BYRON. 

|OON  after  his  father's  return  to  England,  William 
Harness  was  sent  to  Harrow,  where  he  was  placed 
under  the  care  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Bland.  On  his 
entering  the  school,  he  became  acquainted  with 
Lord  Byron  in  a  manner  which  was  certainly  most  creditable 
to  the  latter.  It  will  be  best  to  give  Mr.  Harness's  own  ac- 
count of  this  circumstance  :  — 

"  My  acquaintance  with  Lord  Byron  began  very  early  in 
life,  on  my  first  going  to  school  at  Harrow.  I  was  then  just 
twelve  years  old.  I  was  lame  from  an  early  accident,  and  pale 
and  thin  in  consequence  of  a  severe  fever,  from  which,  though 
perfectly  recovered  in  other  respects,  I  still  continued  weak. 
This  dilapidated  condition  of  mine  —  perhaps  my  lameness 
more  than  anything  else  —  seems  to  have  touched  Byron's 
sympathies.  He  saw  me  a  stranger  in  a  crowd  ;  the  very  per- 
son likely  to  tempt  the  oppression  of  a  bully,  as  I  was  utterly 
incapable  of  resisting  it ;  and,  in  all  the  kindness  of  his  gen- 
erous nature,  he  took  me  under  his  charge.  The  first  words  he 
ever  spoke  to  me,  as  far  as  I  can  recollect  them,  were,  '  If  any 
tellow  bullies  you,  tell  me  ;  and  I  '11  thrash  him  if  I  can.'  His 
protection  was  not  long  needed  ;  I  was  soon  strong  again,  and 
able  to  maintain  my  own  ;  but,  as  long  as  his  help  was  wanted, 
he  never  failed  to  render  it.  In  this  manner  our  friendship 
began  when  we  were  both  boys,  he  the  elder  of  the  two ;  and 
it  continued,  without  the  slightest  interruption,  till  he  left 
Harrow  for  Cambridge. 


180  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

"  After  this  there  was  a  temporary  cessation  of  intercourse. 
We  wrote  to  each  other  on  his  first  leaving  school ;  but  the 
letters,  as  is  wont  to  be  the  case,  became  gradually  less  and 
less  communicative  and  frequent,  till  they  eventually  ceased  al- 
together. The  correspondence  seemed  to  have  come  to  a  con- 
clusion by  common  consent,  till  an  unexpected  occasion  of  its 
renewal  occurred  on  the  appearance  of  his  first  collection  of 
poems,  the  '  Hours  of  Idleness.' l  This  volume  contained  an 
early  essay  of  his  satirical  powers  against  the  head-master  of 
his  late  school ;  and  very  soon  after  its  publication  I  received 
a  letter  from  Byron  —  short,  cold,  and  cutting  —  reproaching 
me  with  a  breach  of  friendship,  because  I  had,  as  he  was  in- 
formed, traduced  his  poetry  in  an  English  exercise,  for  the 
sake  of  conciliating  the  favor  of  Dr.  Butler.  The  only  answer 
I  returned  to  the  letter  was  to  send  him  the  rough  copy  of  my 
theme.  It  was  on  the  Evils  of  Idleness.  After  a  world  of 
puerilities  and  commonplaces,  it  concluded  by  warning  man- 
kind in  general,  and  the  boys  of  Harrow  in  particular,  if  they 
would  avoid  the  vice  and  its  evils,  to  cultivate  some  accom- 
plishment, that  each  might  have  an  occupation'  of  interest  to 
engage  his  leisure,  and  be  able  to  spend  his  '  Hours  of  Idle- 
ness '  as  profitably  as  our  late  popular  school-fellow.  The 
return  of  post  brought  me  a  letter  from  Byron,  begging  par- 
don for  the  unworthiness  he  had  attributed  to  me,  and  ac- 
knowledging that  he  had  been  misinformed.  Thus  our  cor- 
respondence was  renewed  :  and  it  was  never  again  interrupted 
till  after  his  separation  from  Lady  Byron  and  final  departure 
from  his  country." 

1  The  critiques  on  which  called  forth  Kngliik  Bardt  and  Scotch  Revitwert. 
Byron  seems  always  to  have  had  an  unfortunate  and  irresistible  love  of  satire.  Mr. 
Dyce  (in  Rogers'*  TabU  Talk)  makes  the  following  reference  :  "  At  the  house  of  the 
Rev-  W.  Harness,  I  remember  hearing  Moore  remark  that  he  thought  the  natural 
bent  of  Byron's  genius  was  to  satirical  and  burlesque  poetry.  On  this  Mr.  Harness 
observed :  '  When  Byron  was  at  Harrow,  he  one  day,  seeing  a  young  acquaintance 
at  a  short  distance  who  was  a  violent  admirer  of  Bonaparte,  roared  out :  — 
'  Bold  Robert  Speer  was  Bony's  bad  precursor, 

Bob  was  a  bloody  dog,  but  Bonaparte  a  worsen* 

Moore  immediately  wrote  the  line*  clown  with  the  intention  of  inserting  them  in  liis 
Lift  of  Byron  which  he  wa*  then  preparing ;  but  they  do  not  appear  in  it." 


LORD  BYRON.  l8l 

Lord  Byron  thus  refers  to  their  early  acquaintance  at 
school  :  "  I  was  then  just  fourteen.  You  were  almost  the 
first  of  my  Harrow  friends  —  certainly  the  first  in  my  esteem, 
if  not  in  date  ....  How  well  I  recollect  the  present  of  your 
first  flights  !  There  is  another  circumstance  you  do  not  know  ; 
the  first  lines  I  ever  attempted  at  Harrow  were  addressed  to 
you." 

Such  was  the  commencement  of  this  remarkable  friendship. 
The  two  boys  must  have  been  very  dissimilar  in  disposition  as 
they  became  such  different  men.  Byron  alludes  to  their  dif- 
ference in  conduct  when  at  school  ;  but  their  characters  were 
not  then  formed.  Moreover,  they  had  several  bonds  of  sym- 
pathy ;  both  were  fond  of  poetry  and  romance  ;  both  had  warm 
and  affectionate  dispositions  ;  both  were  devoted  to  study  ;. 
and  both  were  —  lame.  When  William  Harness  was  little 
more  than  an  infant,  he  was  playing  with  and  clinging  about 
some  curious  carving  on  the  posts  of  an  old  oaken  bedstead 
which  were  tied  together  and  lying  against  the  wall.  By  some 
unfortunate  movement  he  caused  the  heavy  mass  to  fall  ;  it 
came  down  with  crashing  weight  upon  his  foot.  He  never 
entirely  recovered  tffis  accident,  and  he  always  felt  a  slight 
pain  in  walking  ;  but  such  was  his  spirit  and  perseverance  that 
in  after-life  he  became  a  good  pedestrian. 

After  the  explanation  to  which  Mr.  Harness  alludes,  and 
Byron's  letter  of  apology,  they  again  became  friends.  "  Our 
intercourse1,"  writes  Mr.  Harness,  "  was  renewed  and  con- 
tinued from  that  time  till  his  going  abroad.  Whatever  faults 
Lord  Byron  might  have  had  towards  others,  to  myself  he  was 
always  uniformly  affectionate.  I  have  many  slights  and  neg- 
lects towards  him  to  reproach  myself  with  ;  but,  on  his  part,  I 
cannot  call  to  mind,  during  the  whole  course  of  our  intimacy, 
a  single  instance  of  caprice  or  unkindness. 

Before  leaving  England  for  Greece,  in  1809,  Byron  made  a 
most  gratifying  request  of  his  friend  :  — 

"  I  am  going  abroad,  if  possible,  in  the  spring,  and  before  I 
depart  I  am  collecting  the  pictures  of  my  most  intimate  school- 
fellows. I  have  already  a  few,  and  shall  want  yours,  or  my 


1 82  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

cabinet  will  be  incomplete.  I  have  employed  one  of  the  best 
miniature  painters  of  the  day  to  take  them  —  of  course  at  my 
own  expense,  as  I  never  allow  my  acquaintances  to  incur  the 
least  expenditure  to  gratify  a  whim  of  mine.  To  mention  this 
may  seem  indelicate  ;  but  when  I  tell  you  a  friend  of  ours  first 
refused  to  sit,  under  the  idea  that  he  was  to  disburse  on  the 
occasion,  you  will  see  that  it  is  necessary  to  state  these  pre- 
liminaries to  prevent  the  recurrence  of  any  similar  mistake.  I 
shall  see  you  in  time,  and  will  carry  you  to  the  limner.  It  will 
be  a  tax  on  your  patience  for  a  week,  but  pray  excuse  it,  as  it 
is  possible  the  resemblance  may  be  the  sole  trace  I  shall  be 
able  to  preserve  of  our  past  friendship  and  present  acquaint- 
ance. Just  now  it  seems  foolish  enough  ;  but  in  a  few  years, 
when  some  of  us  are  dead,  and  others  are  separated  by  inevit- 
able circumstances,  it  will  be  a  kind  of  satisfaction  to  retain,  in 
these  images  of  the  living,  the  idea  of  our  former  selves,  and 
to  contemplate,  in  the  resemblance  of  the  dead,  all  that  re- 
mains of  judgment,  feeling,  and  a  host  of  passions. 

"  But  all  this  will  be  dull  enough  for  you,  and  so  good-night ; 
and  to  end  my  chapter,  or  rather  my  homily, 

"  Believe  irtf, 

"  My  dear  Harness, 

"  Yours  most  affectionately, 

"  BYRON." 

After  Byron's  return  from  Greece,  we  find  the  following 
proof  of  his  faithful  remembrance  in  one  of  his  letters  to  his 
friend  :  "  I  have  not  changed  in  all  my  ramblings  :  Harrow, 
and  of  course  yourself,  never  left  me,  and  the  . 

'  Dulces  reminisciter  Argos ' 

attended  me  to  the  very  spot  to  which  that  sentence  alludes  in 
the  mind  of  the  fallen  Argive.  Our  intimacy  commenced  be- 
fore we  began  to  date  at  all,  and  it  rests  with  you  to  continue 
it  till  the  hour  which  must  number  it  and  me  with  the  things 
that  were." 

Shortly  before  Mr.  Harness  took  his  degree,  he  received  an 
invitation  to  Newstead  ;  and  his  stay  there  must  have  been 


LORD  BYRON.  183 

one   of  unusual   interest  and  pleasure  ;    this  is  the  account 
which  he  gives  of  his  visit. 

"  When  Byron  returned,  with  the  MS.  of  the  first  two  cantos 
of '  Childe  Harold '  in  his  portmanteau,  I  paid  him  a  visit  at 
Newstead.  It  was  winter  —  dark,  dreary  weather  —  the  snow 
upon  the  ground  ;  and  a  straggling,  gloomy,  depressing,  par- 
tially-inhabited place  the  Abbey  was.  Those  rooms,  however, 
which  had  been  fitted  up  for  residence  were  so  comfortably 
appointed,  glowing  with  crimson  hangings,  and  cheerful  with 
capacious  fires,  that  one  soon  lost  the  melancholy  feeling  of 
being  domiciled  in  the  wing  of  an  extensive  ruin.  Many  tales 
are  related  or  fabled  of  the  orgies  which,  in  the  Poet's  early 
youth,  had  made  clamorous  these  ancient  halls  of  the  Byrons. 
I  can  only  say  that  nothing  in  the  shape  of  riot  or  excess  oc- 
curred when  I  was  there.  The  only  other  visitor  was  Dr. 
Hodgson,  the  translator  of  Juvenal,1  and  nothing  could  be 
more  quiet  and  regular  than  the  course  of  our  days.  Byron 
was  retouching,  as  the  sheets  passed  through  the  press,  the 
stanzas  of  '  Childe  Harold.'  Hogdson  was  at  work  in  getting 
out  the  ensuing  number  of  the  '  Monthly  Review,'  of  which  he 
was  principal  editor.  I  was  reading  for  my  degree.  When 
we  met,  our  general  talk  was  of  poets  and  poetry  —  of  who 
could  or  who  could  not  write  ;  but  it  occasionally  rose  into  very 
serious  discussions  on  religion.  Byron,  from  his  early  educa- 
tion in  Scotland,  had  been  taught  to  identify  the  principles  of 
Christianity  with  the  extreme  dogmas  of  Calvinism.  His  mind 
had  thus  imbibed  a  most  miserable  prejudice,  which  appeared 
to  be  the  only  obstacle  to  his  hearty  acceptance  of  the  Gospel. 
Of  this  error  we  were  most  anxious  to  disabuse  him.  The 
chief  weight  of  the  argument  rested  with  Hodgson,  who  was 
older,  a  good  deal,  than  myself.  I  cannot  even  now  —  at  a 
distance  of  more  than  fifty  years  —  recall  those  conversations 
without  a  deep  feeling  of  admiration  for  the  judicious  zeal  and 
affectionate  earnestness  (often  speaking  with  tears  in  his  eyes) 
which  Dr.  Hodgson  evinced  in  his  advocacy  of  the  truth.  The 
only  difference,  except  perhaps  in  the  subjects  talked  about, 

1  Afterwards  Provost  of  Eton. 


1 84  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

between  our  life  at  Newstead  Abbey  and  that  of  the  quiet 
country  families  around  us,  was  the  hours  we  kept.  It  was,  as 
I  have  said,  winter,  and  the  days  were  cold ;  and,  as  nothing 
tempted  us  to  rise  early,  we  got  up  late.  This  flung  the  routine 
of  the  day  rather  backward,  and  we  did  not  go  early  to  bed. 
My  visit  to  Newstead  lasted  about  three  weeks,  when  I  re- 
turned to  Cambridge  to  take  my  degree." 

Mr.  Harness's  friendly  intercourse  with  Lord  Byron  was 
not  interrupted,  though  carried  on  under  some  disadvantages. 
The  poet  was  prevented  from  dedicating  "  Childe  Harold  "  to- 
him,  "for  fear  It  should  injure  him  in  his  profession."  And  it 
is  evident  that  in  some  of  his  letters  Mr.  Harness  reproved 
him  for  his  thoughtlessness  and  dissipation. 

"You  censure  my  life,  Harness,"  Byron  writes  in  reply. 
"  When  I  compare  myself  with  these  men,  my  elders  and  my 
betters,  I  really  begin  to  conceive  myself  a  monument  of  pru- 
dence —  a  walking  statue  —  without  feeling  or  failing  ;  and 
yet  the  world  in  general  hath  given  me  a  proud  preeminence 
over  them  in  profligacy  !  " 

"  From  this  time,"  writes  Mr.  Harness,  "  our  paths  lay  much 
asunder.  Byron  returned  to  London.  His  poem  was  pub- 
lished. The  success  was  instantaneous  ;  and  he  '  awoke  one 
morning  and  found  himself  famous.'  I  was  in  orders,  and 
living  an  almost  solitary  life  in  a  country  curacy  ;  but  we  kept 
up  a  rather  rapid  interchange  of  letters.  He  sent  me  his 
poems  as  they  now  appeared  in  rather  quick  succession  ;  and 
during  my  few  weeks'  holidays  in  London  we  saw  one  another 
very  often  of  a  morning  at  each  other's  rooms,  and  not  unfre- 
quently  again  in  society  of  an  evening.  So  far,  and  for  these 
few  years,  all  that  I  saw  or  heard  of  his  career  was  bright  and 
prosperous  :  kindness  and  poetry  at  home,  smiles  and  adula- 
tion abroad.  But  then  came  his  marriage  ;  and  then  the  rup- 
ture with  his  wife  ;  and  then  his  final  departure  from  England. 
He  became  a  victim  of  that  revolution  of  popular  feeling  which 
is  ever  incident  to  the  spoilt  children  of  society,  when  envy 
and  malice  obtain  a  temporary  ascendency,  and  succeed  in 
knocking  down  and  trampling  any  idol  of  the  day  beneath 


LORD  BYRON.  1 85 

their  feet,  who  may  be  wanting  in  the  moral  courage  required 
to  face  and  out-brave  them. 

"  Such  was  not  the  spirit  that  animated  Byron.  He  could 
not  bear  to  look  on  the  altered  countenances  of  his  acquaint- 
ances. To  his  susceptible  temperament  and  generous  feel- 
ings, the  reproach  of  having  ill-used  a  woman  must  have  been 
poignant  in  the  extreme.  It  was  repulsive  to  his  chivalrous 
character  as  a  gentleman  ;  it  belied  all  he  had  written  of  the 
devoted  fervor  of  his  attachments  ;  and  rather  than  meet  the 
frowns  and  sneers  which  awaited  him  in  the  world,  as  many  a 
less  sensitive  man  might  have  done,  he  turned  his  back  on 
them  and  fled.  He  would  have  drawn  himself  up,  and  crossed 
his  arms  and  curled  his  lip,  and  looked  disdainfully  on  any 
amount  of  clamorous  hostility  ;  but  he  stole  away  from  the 
ignominy  of  being  silently  cut.  His  whole  course  of  conduct, 
at  this  crisis  of  his  life,  was  an  inconsiderate  mistake.  He 
should  have  remained  to  learn  what  the  accusations  against 
him  really  were  ;  to  expose  the  exaggerations,  if  not  the  false- 
hoods, of  the  grounds  they  rested  on  ;  or,  at  all  events,  to 
have  quietly  abided  the  time  when  the  London  world  should 
have  become  wearied  of  repeating  its  vapid  scandals,  and  re- 
turned to  its  senses  respecting  him.  That  change  of  feeling 
did  come  —  and  not  long  after  his  departure  from  England  — 
but  he  was  at  a  distance,  and  could  not  be  persuaded  to  return 
to  take  advantage  of  it. 

"  Of  the  matrimonial  quarrel  I  personally  know  nothing  ;  nor 
with  the  exception  of  Dr.  Lushington,  do  I  believe  that  there 
is  anybody  living  who  has  any  certain  knowledge  about  the 
matter.  The  marriage  was  never  one  of  reasonable  promise. 
The  bridegroom  and  the  bride  were  ill-assorted.  They  were 
two  only  children,  and  two  spoilt  children.  I  was  acquainted 
with  Lady  Byron  as  Miss  Milbanke.  The  parties  of  Lady  Mil- 
banke,  her  mother,  were  frequent  and  agreeable,  and  com- 
posed of  that  mixture  of  fashion,  literature,  science,  and  art, 
than  which  there  is  no  better  society.  The  daughter  was  not 
without  a  certain  amount  of  prettiness  or  cleverness  ;  but  her 
manner  was  stiff  and  formal,  and  gave  one  the  idea  of  her 


1 86  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

being  self-willed  and  self-opinionated.  She  was  almost  the 
only  young,  pretty,  well-dressed  girl  we  ever  saw  who  carried 
no  cheerfulness  along  with  her.  I  seem  to  see  her  now,  mov- 
ing slowly  along  her  mother's  drawing-rooms,  talking  to  scien- 
tific men  and  literary  women,  without  a  tone  of  emotion  in  her 
voice  or  the  faintest  glimpse  of  a  smile  upon  her  countenance. 
A  lady  who  had  been  on  intimate  terms  with  her  from  their 
mutual  childhood  once  said  to  me,  '  If  Lady  Byron  has  a 
heart,  it  is  deeper  seated  and  harder  to  get  at  than  anybody 
else's  heart  whom  I  have  ever  known.'  And  though  several 
of  my  friends  whose  regard  it  was  no  slight  honor  to  have 
gained  —  as  Mrs.  Siddons,  Joanna  Baillie,  Maria  Edgeworth, 
and  others  of  less  account,  —  were  never  heard  to  speak  of 
Lady  Byron  except  in  terms  of  admiration  and  attachment,  it 
is  certain  that  the  impression  which  she  produced  on  the 
majority  of  her  acquaintance  was  unfavorable  :  they  looked 
upon  her  as  a  reserved  and  frigid  sort  of  being  whom  one 
would  rather  cross  the  room  to  avoid  than  be  brought  into 
conversation  with  unnecessarily.  Such  a  person,  whatever 
quality  might  have  at  first  attracted  him  —  (could  it  have  been 
her  coldness  ?)  —  was  not  likely  to  acquire  or  retain  any  very 
powerful  hold  upon  Byron.  At  the  beginning  of  their  married 
life,  when  first  they  returned  to  London  society  together,  one 
seldom  saw  two  young  persons  who  appeared  to  be  more  de- 
voted to  one  another  than  they  were.  At  parties  he  would  be 
seen  hanging  over  the  back  of  her  chair,  scarcely  talking  to 
anybody  else,  eagerly  introducing  his  friends  to  her,  and,  if 
they  did  not  go  away  together,  himself  handing  her  to  her 
carriage.  This  outward  show  of  tenderness,  so  far  as  my 
memory  serves  me,  was  observed  and  admired  as  exemplary, 
till  after  the  birth  of  their  daughter.  From  that  time  the 
world  began  to  drop  its  voice  into  a  tone  of  compassion  when 
speaking  of  Lady  Byron,  and  to  whisper  tales  of  the  misery 
she  was  suffering  —  poor  thing  —  on  account  of  the  unkind- 
ness  of  her  husband. 

"  The  first  instances  of  his  ill-usage  which  were  heard,  were 
so  insignificant  as  to  be  beneath  recording.    '  The  poor  lady 


LORD  BYRON.  187 

had  never  had  a  comfortable  meal  since  their  marriage.' 
'  Her  husband  had  no  fixed  hour  for  breakfast,  and  was  al- 
ways too  late  for  dinner.'  '  At  his  express  desire,  she  had 
invited  two  elderly  ladies1  to  meet  them  in  her  opera-box. 
Nothing  could  be  more  courteous  than  his  manner  to  them, 
while  they  remained  ;  but  no  sooner  had  they  gone  than  he 
began  to  annoy  his  wife  by  venting  his  ill-humor,  in  a  strain 
of  bitterest  satire,  against  the  dress  and  manners  of  her 
friends.'  There  were  some  relations  of  Lady  Byron  whom, 
after  repeated  refusals,  he  had  reluctantly  consented  to  dine 
with.  When  the  day  arrived  he  insisted  on  her  going  alone, 
alleging  his  being  unwell  as  an  excuse  for  his  absence.  It 
was  summer  time.  Forty  years  ago  people  not  only  dined 
earlier  than  they  do  now,  but  by  daylight  ;  and  after  the  as- 
sembled party  were  seated  at  table,  he  amused  himself  by 
driving  backwards  and  forwards  opposite  the  dining-room 
windows.2 

"  There  was  a  multitude  of  such  nonsensical  stories  as  these, 
which  one  began  to  hear  soon  after  Ada's  birth  ;  and  I  be- 
lieve I  have  told  the  worst  of  them.  No  doubt,  as  the  things 
occurred,  they  must  have  been  vexatious  enough,  but  they  do 
not  amount  to  grievous  wrongs.  They  were  faults  of  temper, 
not  morel  delinquencies  ;  a  thousand  of  them  would  not  con- 
stitute an  injury.  Nor  does  one  know  to  what  extent  they 
may  have  been  provoked.  They  would,  in  all  probability, 
have  ceased,  had  they  been  gently  borne  with  —  and  perhaps 
were  only  repeated  because  the  culprit  was  amused  by  wit- 
nessing their  effects.  At  all  events  they  were  no  more  than  a 
sensible  woman,  who  had  either  a  proper  feeling  for  her  hus- 
band's reputation,  or  a  due  consideration  of  her  own  position, 
would  have  readily  endured  ;  and  a  really  good  wife  would 
never  have  allowed  herself  to  talk  about  them.  And  yet  it 
was  by  Lady  Byron's  friends,  and  as  coming  immediately  from 
her,  that  I  used  to  hear  them.  The  complaints,  at  first  so 
trifling,  gradually  acquired  a  more  serious  character.  '  Poor 

1  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie  and  her  sisier. 

*  The  above  gossip  all  came  to  me  from  different  friends  of  Lady  Byron. 


1 88  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

Lady  Byron  was  afraid  of  her  life.'  '  Her  husband  slept 
with  loaded  pistols  by  his  bedside,  and  a  dagger  under  his 
pillow.'  Then  there  came  rumors  of  cruelty  —  no  one  knew 
of  what  kind,  or  how  severe.  Nothing  was  definitely  stated. 
But  it  was  on  all  hands  allowed  to  be  '  very  bad  —  very  bad 
indeed.'  And  as  there  was  nothing  to  be  known,  everybody 
imagined  what  they  pleased. 

"  But  whatever  Lord  Byron's  treatment  of  his  wife  may  have 
been,  it  could  not  have  been  all  evil.  Any  injuries  she  suf- 
fered must  have  occurred  during  moody  and  angry  fits  of  tem- 
per. They  could  not  have  been  habitual  or  frequent.  His 
conduct  was  not  of  such  a  description  as  to  have  utterly  ex- 
tinguished whatever  love  she  might  have  felt  at  her  marriage, 
or  to  have  left  any  sense  of  terror  or  aversion  behind  it.  This 
is  evident  from  facts.  Years  after  they  had  met  for  the  last 
time,  Lady  Byron  went  with  Mrs.  Jameson,  from  whom  I  re- 
peat the  circumstance,  to  see  Thorwaldsen's  statue  of  her 
husband,  which  was  at  Sir  Richard  Westmacott's  studio. 
After  looking  at  it  in  silence  for  a  few  moments,  the  tears 
came  into  her  eyes,  and  she  said  to  her  companion,  '  it  is 
very  beautiful,  but  not  so  beautiful  as  my  dear  Byron.'  How- 
ever interrupted  by  changes  of  caprice  or  irritability,  the  gen- 
eral course  of  her  husband's  conduct  must  have  been  gentle 
and  tender,  or  it  never  would,  after  so  long  a  cessation  of  in- 
tercourse, have  left  such  kindly  impressions  behind  it.  I 
have,  indeed,  reason  to  believe  that  these  feelings  of  affec- 
tionate remembrance  lingered  in  the  heart  of  Lady  Byron  to 
the  last.  Not  a  fortnight  before  her  death,  I  dined  in  com- 
pany with  an  old  lady  who  was  at  the  time  on  a  visit  to  her.  On 
this  lady's  returning  home,  and  mentioning  whom  she  had 
met,  Lady  Byron  evinced  great  curiosity  to  learn  what  sub- 
jects we  had  talked  about,  and  what  I  had  heard  of  them, 
'because  I  had  been  such  a  friend  of  her  husband's.'  This 
instance  of  fond  remembrance,  after  an  interval  of  more  than 
forty  years,  in  a  woman  of  no  very  sensitive  nature  —  a 
woman  of  more  intellect  than  feeling  —  conveys  to  my  mind 
no  slight  argument  in  defense  of  Byron's  conduct  as  a  hus- 


LORD  BYRON.  189 

band.  His  wife,  though  unrelenting,  manifestly  regretted  his 
loss.  May  not  some  touch  of  remorse  for  the  exile  to  which 
she  had  dismissed  him  —  for  the  fame  over  which  she  had 
cast  a  cloud  —  for  the  energies  which  she  had  diverted  from 
their  course  of  useful  action  in  the  Senate,1  to  be  wasted  in 
no  honorable  idleness  abroad  —  and  for  the  so  early  death  to 
which  her  unwife-like  conduct  doomed  him,  have  mingled  its 
bitterness  with  the  pain  of  that  regret  ? 

"  But  what  do  I  know  of  Byron  ?  The  ill  I  will  speak  of 
presently.  Personally,  I  know  nothing  but  good  of  him.  Of 
what  he  became  in  his  foreign  banishment,  when  removed 
from  all  his  natural  ties  and  hereditary  duties,  I,  personally, 
am  ignorant.  In  all  probability  he  deteriorated  ;  he  would 
have  been  more  than  human  if  he  had  not.  But  when  I  was 
in  the  habit  of  familiarly  seeing  him,  he  was  kindness  itself. 
At  a  time  when  Coleridge  was  in  great  embarrassment,  Rog- 
ers, when  calling  on  Byron,  chanced  to  mention  it.  He  im- 
mediately went  to  his  writing-desk,  and  brought  back  a  check 
for  a  hundred  pounds,  and  insisted  on  its  being  forwarded  to 
Coleridge.  '  I  did  not  like  taking  it,'  said  Rogers,  who  told 
me  the  story,  '  for  I  knew  that  he  was  in  want  of  it  himself.' 
His  servants  he  treated  with  a  gentle  consideration  for  their 
feelings  which  I  have  seldom  witnessed  in  any  other,  and  they 
were  devoted  to  him.  At  Newstead  there  was  an  old  man 
who  had  been  butler  to  his  mother,  and  I  have  seen  Byron,  as 
the  old  man  waited  behind  his  chair  at  dinner,  pour  out  a 
glass  of  wine  and  pass  it  to  him  when  he  thought  we  were  too 
much  engaged  in  conversation  to  observe  what  he  was  doing. 
The  transaction  was  a  thing  of  custom  ;  and  both  parties 
seemed  to  flatter  themselves  that  it  was  clandestinely  effected. 
A  hideous  old  woman,  who  had  been  brought  in  to  nurse  him 
when  he  was  unwell  at  one  of  his  lodgings,  and  whom  few 
would  have  cared  to  retain  about  them  longer  than  her  ser- 
vices were  required,  was  carried  with  him,  in  improved  attire, 
to  his  chambers  in  the  Albany,  and  was  seen,  after  his  mar- 
riage, gorgeous  in  black  silk  at  his  house  in  Piccadilly.  She 

1  He  had  made  some  good  speeches  in  the  House- 


I9O  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

had  done  him  a  service,  and  he  could  not  forget  it.  Of  his  at- 
tachment to  his  friends,  no  one  can  read  Moore's  life  and  en- 
tertain a  doubt.  He  required  a  great  deal  from  them  —  not 
more,  perhaps,  than  he,  from  the  abundance  of  his  love,  freely 
and  fully  gave — but  more  than  they  had  to  return.  The  ar- 
dor of  his  nature  must  have  been  in  a  normal  state  of  disap- 
pointment. He  imagined  higher  qualities  in  them  than  they 
possessed,  and  must  very  often  have  found  his  expectations 
sadly  balked  by  the  dullness  of  talk,  the  perversity  of  taste,  or 
the  want  of  enthusiasm,  which  he  encountered  on  a  better  or 
rather  longer  acquaintance.  But,  notwithstanding,  I  have 
never  yet  heard  anybody  complain  that  Byron  had  once  ap- 
peared to  entertain  a  regard  for  him,  and  had  afterwards  ca- 
priciously cast  him  off. 

"  Now,  after  these  good  and  great  qualities,  I  revert  to  the 
evil  of  Byron's  character  and  conduct.  And  here,  if  he  were 
bad,  were  there  no  extenuations,  derived  from  the  peculiarities 
of  his  position  and  education,  to  be  pleaded  for  him  ?  Was 
he  not  better,  instead  of  worse,  than  most  young  men  have 
proved  who  were  similarly  circumstanced  ?  He  had  virtually 
never  known  a  father's  love,  or  a  mother's  tenderness.  He 
was  from  early  childhood  wholly  cut  off  from  those  motives  to 
virtue,  and  those  restraints  from  vice,  which,  amid  a  band  of 
brothers  and  sisters,  grow  up  around  us  with  the  family  affec- 
tions. Home  is  the  only  school  in  which  right  principles  and 
generous  feelings  find  a  genial  soil  and  attain  a  natural 
growth.  Without  a  home  the  boy  sees  nothing,  knows  noth- 
ing considers  nothing,  and  feels  for  nothing  but  himself  ;  and 
a  home  Byron  never  had.  The  domestic  charities  and  their 
ameliorating  influences  were  only  known  to  him  by  name. 
He  was  from  boyhood  his  own  master ;  and  would  it  have 
been  strange,  if,  with  strong  passions,  an  untutored  will,  fer- 
vent imagination,  and  no  one  with  authority  to  control  him,  he 
was  sometimes  led  astray  ?  But  during  the  time  he  was  in 
London  society,  what  young  men  were  there,  with  the  same 
liberty  to  range  at  will  as  he,  who  were  less  absorbed  by  its 
dissipations  ?  Who  among  them  abstracted  so  much  time 


LORD  BYRON.  19 1 

from  the  fascinations  of  the  world  as  he,  to  study  as  he 
studied,  and  to  write  as  he  wrote  ?  I  have  little  doubt, 
though  I  don't  know  it,  that  in  the  season  of  his  unpar- 
alleled success  he  was  not  likely  to  have  been  more  rigid  in  his 
conduct  than  his  companions  were  in  their  principles.  But  it 
is  at  least  extraordinary  that,  while  thus  courted  and  admired, 
if  his  life  was  as  licentious  as  some  have  represented,  the 
only  scandal  which  disturbed  the  decorum  of  society,  and 
with  which  Byron's  name  is  connected,  did  not  originate  in 
any  action  of  his,  but  in  the  insane  and  unrequited  passion  of 
a  woman. 

"  Byron  had  one  preeminent  fault  —  a  fault  which  must  be 
considered  as  deeply  criminal  by  every  one  who  does  not,  as 
I  do,  believe  it  to  have  resulted  from  monomania.  He  had  a 
morbid  love  of  a  bad  reputation.  There  was  hardly  an  of- 
fense of  which  he  would  not,  with  perfect  indifference,  accuse 
himself.  An  old  school-fellow,  who  met  him  on  the  Conti- 
nent, told  me  that  he  would  continually  write  paragraphs 
against  himself  in  the  foreign  journals,  nnd  delight  in  their 
republication  by  the  English  newspapers  as  in  the  success  of 
a  practical  joke.  When  anybody  has  related  anything  dis- 
creditable of  Byron,  assuring  me  that  it  must  be  true,  for  he 
had  heard  it  from  himself,  I  have  always  felt  that  he  could  not 
have  spoken  with  authority,  and  that,  in  all  probability,  the 
tale  was  a  pure  invention.  If  I  could  remember,  and  were 
willing  to  repeat,  the  various  misdoings  which  I  have  from 
time  to  time  heard  him  attribute  to  himself,  I  could  fill  a  vol- 
ume. But  I  never  believed  them.  I  very  soon  became  aware 
of  this  strange  idiosyncrasy.  It  puzzled  me  to  account  for  it  ; 
but  there  it  was  —  a  sort  of  diseased  and  distorted  vanity. 
The  same  eccentric  spirit  would  induce  him  to  report  things 
which  were  false  with  regard  to  his  family,  which  anybody 
else  would  have  concealed,  though  true.  He  told  me  more 
than  once  that  his  father  was  insane  and  killed  himself.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  manner  in  which  he  first  told  me  this. 
While  washing  his  hands,  and  singing  a  gay  Neapolitan  air, 
he  stopped,  looked  round  at  me,  and  said,  '  There  always  was 


I Q2  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

a  madness  in  the  family.'  Then  after  continuing  his  washing 
and  his  song,  as  if  speaking  of  a  matter  of  the  slightest  in- 
difference, '  My  father  cut  his  throat.'  The  contrast  between 
the  tenor  of  the  subject  and  the  levity  of  the  expression,  was 
fearfully  painful :  it  was  like  a  stanza  of  '  Don  Juan.'  In  this 
instance,  I  had  no  doubt  that  the  fact  was  as  he  related  it, 
but  in  speaking  of  it  only  a  few  years  since  to  an  old  lady  l  in 
whom  I  had  perfect  confidence,  she  assured  me  that  it  was  not 
so  ;  that  Mr.  Byron,  who  was  her  cousin,  had  been  extremely 
wild,  but  was  quite  sane  and  had  died  quietly  in  his  bed. 
What  Byron's  reasons  could  have  been  for  thus  calumniating, 
not  only  himself,  but  the  blood  that  was  flowing  in  his  veins, 
who  can  divine  ?  But,  for  some  reason  or  other,  it  seemed  to 
be  his  determined  purpose  to  keep  himself  unknown  to  the 
great  body  of  his  fellow-creatures — to  present  himself  to 
their  view  in  moral  masquerade,  and  to  identify  himself  in 
their  imaginations  with  Childe  Harold  and  the  Corsair,  be- 
tween which  characters  and  his  own  —  as  God  and  education 
had  made  it  —  the  most  microscopic  inspection  would  fail  to 
discern  a  single  point  of  resemblance. 

"  Except  this  love  of  an  ill-name  —  this  tendency  to  malign 
himself  —  this  hypocrisy  reversed,  I  have  no  personal  knowl- 
edge whatever  of  arty  evil  act  or  evil  disposition  of  Lord 
Byron's.  I  once  said  this  to  a  gentleman  2  who  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  Lord  Byron's  London  life.  He  expressed  him- 
self astonished  at.  what  I  said.  'Well,'  I  replied,  'do  you 
know  any  harm  of  him  but  what  he  told  you  himself?'  'Oh, 
yes,  a  hundred  things  ! '  '  I  don't  want  you  to  tell  me  a  hun- 
dred things,  I  shall  be  content  with  one.'  Here  the  conversa- 
tion was  interrupted.  We  were  at  dinner  —  there  was  a  large 
party,  and  the  subject  was  again  renewed  at  table.  But  af- 
terwards in  the  drawing-room,  Mr.  Drury  came  up  to  me  and 
said,  '  I  have  been  thinking  of  what  you  were  saying  at  dinner. 
I  do  not  know  any  harm  of  Byron  but  what  he  has  told  me  of 
himself.' " 

1  Mr*.  Villiers,  Lord  Clarendon'*  mother. 
»  The  Rev.  Henry  Drury. 


LORD  BYRON.  193 

Mr.  Harness's  testimony  to  the  good  points  in  Byron  s  char- 
acter is  especially  valuable  as  it  comes  from  one  who  was  not 
in  the  least  blinded  by  the  brilliancy  of  his  genius.  So  del- 
icately sensitive,  indeed,  was  Mr.  Harness's  nature,  that  he 
always,  as  he  confessed,  felt  Byron's  poetry  to  be  a  little  too 
'•  strong "  for  him.  He  attributed  a  large  part  of  Byron's 
reckless  conduct  in  after-life  to  the  misfortune  of  his  ill-as- 
sorted marriage.  "  It  was  brought  about,"  he  observed,  "by 
well-meaning  friends,  who  knew  that  Byron  wanted  money,  and 
thought  they  were  consulting  his  best  interests."  He  formed 
the  alliance,  as  is  often  the  case,  because  other  people  liked  it  ; 
but  they  did  not  take  into  consideration  how  many  elements 
are  required  to  constitute  the  happiness  of  sentient  human 
beings.  Lady  Byron  was  a  person  entirely  deficient  in  tact 
and  reflection,  and  made  no  allowances  for  the  usual  eccen- 
tricities of  genius.  In  some  periods  of  our  history  she  might 
have  aspired  to  a  real  crown  of  martyrdom,  for  she  was  a 
Puritan  in  creed,  and  an  unflinching  advocate  of  her  own  views. 
Miss  Mitford  justly  asks,  "  Why  did  she  marry  Byron  ?  His 
character  was  well  known,  and  he  was  not  a  deceiver  !  "  Pos- 
sibly she  hoped  to  make  an  illustrious  convert  of  him,  or 
thought  that  she  might  at  once  share  his  celebrity  and  restrain 
his  follies.  If  so,  she  greatly  overrated  her  influence,  and 
ignored  the  perversity  of  human  nature.  Byron  had  a  childish 
weakness  for  dramatic  effect  and  excitement,  and  it  was  his 
habit  to  amuse  himself  at  times  by  indulging  in  fantastical 
rhapsodies,  full  of  tragic  extravagance.  Harness  knew  these 
occasions,  and  merely  lapsed  into  silence,  and  when  the  poet 
found  that  no  one  was  horrified  or  delighted,  he  very  soon 
came  to  the  end  of  his  performance.  But  Lady  Byron  was  too 
conscientious,  or  too  severe,  to  allow  the  fire  thus  to  die  out. 
She  took  seriously  every  word  he  utteerd,  weighed  it  in  her 
precise  balance,  and  could  not  avoid  expressing  her  condemna- 
tion of  his  principles  and  her  abhorrence  of  his  language. 
This  fanned  the  flame,  increased  his  irritation,  or  added  zest 
to  his  amusement.  Whatever  crime  she  accused  him  of  he 
was  not  only  ready  to  admit,  but  even  to  trump  by  the  confes- 
'3 


194  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

sion  of  some  greater  enormity.  Few  of  us  have  sufficient 
taste  and  delicacy  for  the  office  of  a  censor,  or  sufficient  hu- 
mility to  profit  by  rebuke  :  but  in  the  present  case  the  difficulties 
were  unusually  great.  "  There  can  be  no  doubt,"  observed 
Mr.  Harness,  "  that  Byron  was  a  little  '  maddish.'  "  He  was 
afflicted  with  a  more  than  usual  share  of  that  eccentricity 
which  so  often  turns  aside  the  keen  edge  of  genius  ;  but  he 
was  amiable,  and  might  have  been  led,  though  he  would  not  be 
driven. 

Mr.  Harness  had  no  communication  with  Byron  during  the 
latter  years  of  his  life.  He  nevertheless  always  continued  to 
take  a  kindly  view  of  the  character  of  his  old  school-fellow  and 
college  friend,  and  endeavored  to  make  every  allowance  for 
his  conduct ;  but  at  the  same  time  we  must  not  suppose  that 
he  permitted  any  personal  feeling  to  interfere  with  his  sense 
of  right,  or  to  prevent  his  denouncing  the  principles  advocated 
in  his  friend's  later  writings.  We  have  already  noticed  his 
disapproval  of  Byron's  conduct,  and  as  it  became  more  marked, 
he  spoke  in  stronger  language.  Their  intimacy  then  ceased, 
and  Byron  recklessly  abandoned  himself  to  those  dissipations 
which  ended  in  his  early  death.  In  1822,  Mr.  Harness  was 
appointed  Boyle  Lecturer  by  the  University  of  Cambridge ; 
and  his  duty  was  "  to  be  ready  to  satisfy  such  real  scruples  as 
any  may  have  concerning  matters  of  religion,  and  to  answer 
such  new  objections  and  difficulties  as  may  be  started."  Lord 
Byron's  works  were  then  at  the  height  of  their  popularity  ; 
and  as  some  of  them  seemed  to  be  exercising  a  very  perni- 
cious influence,  Mr.  Harness  selected  for  special  consideration 
the  poem  l  in  which  an  attempt  was  made  to  represent  God  as 
responsible  for  the  origin  of  Sin. 

"By  a  fiction  of  no  ordinary  power,"  he  observes,  "the 
rebellious  son  of  a  rebellious  father  is  disclosed  to  the  imagi- 
nation as  upon  the  borders  of  Paradise,  and  within  the  shad- 
owy regions  of  the  dead,  holding  personal  communion  with 
the  spiritual  enemy  of  man.  Each  is  represented  as  advocat- 
ing the  cause  of  his  impiety  to  the  partial  judgment  of  his 

»  Cam. 


LORD  BYRON.  195 

companion  in  iniquity.  Miserable  they  are  ;  but  still  they 
are  arrogant  and  stern,  remorseless  and  unsubdued  by  misery. 
For  them  adversity  has  no  sweet  or  hallowed  uses.  While 
they  make  mutual  confession  of  the  wretchedness  their  sin 
has  caused  them,  they  appear  to  glory  in  it,  as  if  ennobled  by 
its  magnitude  and  exalted  by  its  presumption.  To  their  licen- 
tious apprehensions  all  excellence  appears  corrupted  and 
reversed.  They  call  good  evil,  and  evil  they  call  good.  Pride 
is  virtue,  and  rebellion  duty.  Lucifer  is  the  friend,  and  Jeho- 
vah is  the  enemy  of  man  ;  and  while  they  reciprocate  the  argu- 
ments of  a  bewildering  sophistry,  the  benevolence  of  the 
Deity  is  arraigned,  as  if  He  rejoiced  in  the  affliction  of  his 
creatures,  first  conferred  an  efficacy  on  the  temptation,  and 
then  delighted  to  exact  the  penalties  of  transgression." 

Byron  had  attempted  to  justify  himself  by  asserting  that  he 
had  expressed  no  sentiments  worse  than  those  which  were  to 
be  found  in  Milton  ;  but  even  were  this  the  case  (Mr.  Harness 
observed),  there  would  be  a  peculiar  danger  in  reproducing 
them  in  a  specious  form,  and  in  times  when  faith  was  already 
obscured  :  "  The  danger  is  heightened  by  the  peculiar  charac- 
ter of  the  times.  Had  the  allegations  of  these  malignant 
spirits  been  preferred  in  an  age  of  more  general  and  fervent 
piety,  there  had  been  little  peril  in  their  publication.  They 
had  only  awakened  in  the  breast  of  the  reader  a  more  entire 
abhorrence  of  the  beings  by  whom  they  were  entertained  and 
uttered.  It  was  thus  in  the  days  of  Milton.  Every  taunt  of 
Satan  was  then  opposed  by  the  popular  spirit  of  devotion,  and 
armed  against  his  cause  the  deepest  and  the  holiest  affections 
of  the  heart.  But  the  spirit  of  those  times  has  past.  Zeal 
has  yielded  to  indifference,  and  faith  to  skepticism.  We  have 
become  so  impatient  of  the  restraint  of  Christianity,  and  so 
indulgent  to  every  argument  that  endows  our  inclinations  with 
an  apology  for  sin,  that  few  and  transient  are  the  feelings  of 
religious  gratitude  which  are  offended  by  the  impieties  of  Cain 
or  Lucifer,  and  their  appeal  against  the  dispensations  of  Al- 
mighty Providence  is  calmly  heard  and  favorably  deliberated  ; 
for,  in  the  skillful  extenuation  of  their  guilt,  we  appear  to 


196  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

listen  to  the  arguments  that  soothe  us  with  the  justification  of 
our  own.  There  is  also  a  danger  in  the  manner  with  which 
these  antiquated  cavils  are  revived  and  recommended.  Uni- 
ted with  the  dramatic  interest  and  the  seductions  of  poetry, 
they  obtain  a  wider  circulation.  They  gain  an  introduction 
to  the  studies  of  the  young  ;  they  pass  into  the  hands  of  that 
wide  class  of  readers,  who  only  find  in  literature  another 
variety  of  dissipation,  and  who,  after  having  eagerly  received 
the  contagion  of  demoralizing  doubts,  would  indolently  cast 
aside  the  cold  metaphysical  essay  that  conveyed  their  refuta- 
tion." 

Byron's  friendship  for  Mr.  Harness,  who  even  during  their 
intimacy  did  not  scruple  to  reprove  and  oppose  his  principles, 
was  perhaps  the  most  pleasing  episode  in  his  private  career  ; 
and  his  accusers  should  know  that,  during  the  whole  of  their 
correspondence,  he  never  penned  a  single  line  to  his  friend 
which  might  not  have  been  addressed  to  the  most  delicate 
woman. 

MARY  RUSSELL  MITFORD. 

One  of  William  Harness's  earliest  friends  —  born  at  Aires- 
ford,  in  the  same  woodland  district  —  was  Mary  Russell  Mit- 
ford.  Their  families  had  long  been  connected  :  Dr.  Harness 
gave  away  Miss  Russell,  who  became  Miss  Mitford's  mother ; 
and  it  was  here  that  the  future  authoress  passed  those  happy 
days  —  and  her  earliest  years  were  her  happiest  —  to  which 
she  reverted  with  such  fond  remembrance  in  after-life.  Here, 
in  the  spacious  library,  lined  with  her  grandfather  Russell's 
books,  or  in  the  old-fashioned  garden,  among  the  stocks  and 
hollyhocks,  she  and  little  William  would  chase  away  the  sum- 
mer hours,  until  the  time  when  the  carriage  arrived,  which 
was  to  carry  her  playmate  back  to  Wickham.  A  picture 
taken  when  she  was  about  six  years  old  enables  us  to  form 
some  idea  of  her  at  this  time.  It  represents  her  with  her 
hair  cut  short  across  her  forhead,  and  flowing  down  at  the 
back  in  long  glossy  ringlets,  while  in  her  face  there  is  a 
sedateness  and  gravity  beyond  her  years,  such  as  we  might 
expect  to  find  in  a  young  lady  devoted  to  study,  and  cele- 


MARY  RUSSELL  MITFORD.  ig? 

brated  for  early  feats  of  memory.  William  Harness,  on  the 
other  hand  —  by  two  years  the  younger  —  was  full  of  joyous 
and  exuberant  spirits,  with  a  bright,  beaming  countenance,  a 
rosy  complexion,  and  a  profusion  of  dark  hair  which  curled 
and  clustered  on  his  open  brow. 

The  following  letter  from  school  is  interesting  from  its  date, 
and  as  showing  the  early  intimacy  between  William  Harness 
and  Miss  Mitford  :  — 

"  HAKROW,  31^  jfuly,  1808. 

"  MY  DEAR  DOCTOR  MITFORD,  — 

"  I  was  impudent  enough  to  invite  myself  to  your  house,  and 
you  were  kind  enough  to  say  that  I  should  be  welcome  ;  it  was 
afterwards  settled  I  should  come  to  the  races.  I  am  too  self- 
ish to  let  such  an  opportunity  slip,  and  fully  intend  to  bore 
you  for  some  time  at  Grasely.  I  hope  Mrs.  Mitford  will  not 
turn  me  out.  Will  you  then,  my  dear  sir,  let  me  know  when 
the  races  are,  and  when  I  shall  be  least  troublesome  to  you  ; 
for  as  soon  as  you  appoint  I  shall  come  down  and  harass  Miss 
Mitford  to  death  !  My  father  and  grandmother  send  their 
love  and  compliments  to  Mrs.  and  Miss  Mitford  and  yourself. 
I  shall  keep  all  my  civil  things  till  we  meet. 

"  Believe  me, 

"  Yours  sincerely, 

"W.  HARNESS." 

Mr.  Harness  observed  on  this  occasion  that  the  Mitfords' 
mode  of  living  was  greatly  altered.  Dr.  Mitford's  extrava- 
gance had  almost  consumed  the  golden  gift  which  the  fairies 
had  showered  upon  his  little  daughter.  A  change  was  visi- 
ble in  the  household  ;  the  magnificent  butler  had  disappeared  : 
and  the  young  Harrow  boy  by  no  means  admired  the  shabb) 
equipage  in  which  they  were  to  exhibit  themselves  on  the 
race-course. 

During  Mr.  Harness's  residence  at  Hampstead,  in  what 
may  be  termed,  the  holiday  period  of  his  life,  he  occasionally 
indulged  his  fancy  in  the  composition  of  short  poems,  such  as 
were  then  in  fashion,  and  were  considered  to  add  grace  and 


198  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

sentiment  to  the  routine  of  correspondence.  In  his  inter- 
course with  his  friends  he  also  found  another  way  of  contrib- 
uting to  the  entertainment  and  sociability  of  those  around  him. 
Many  of  his  young  lady  acquaintances  were  proficient  in  acting 
charades,  and  found  much  pleasure  in  such  exercises  of  inge- 
nuity. As  he  was  known  to  be  a  man  of  taste,  he  was  soon 
called  upon  to  use  his  skill  for  their  benefit,  and  he  accord- 
ingly planned  a  somewhat  more  elaborate  performance  than 
they  had  hitherto  tried,  by  the  introduction  of  a  little  dramatic 
scene  and  dialogue  to  represent  each  word.  The  attempt  was 
successful,  and  Mr.  Harness's  charades  met  with  considera- 
able  approbation. 

Miss  Mitford  was  one  of  those  who  were  most  pleased  with 
his  idea,  and  as  she  was  then  writing  for  the  magazines, 
requested  permission  to  publish  some  of  his  charades  in 
"  Blackwood."  This  was  granted  ;  for,  although  Mr.  Har- 
ness wished  to  keep  them  for  the  use  of  his  own  friends,  he 
was  unwilling  to  lose  any  opportunity  of  affording  pecuniary 
assistance  to  his  early  companion.  They  accordingly  ap- 
peared in  the  year  1826;  Miss  Mitford  adopting  Mr.  Har- 
ness's plans,  and  developing  them  with  her  own  facility  of 
expression.  ''  I  inclose  my  charades,"  she  writes  to  him, 
"  which,  in  all  but  their  faults,  might  more  properly  be  called 
yours."  In  a  letter  written  at  this  time,  Mr.  Harness  thus 
alludes  to  them,  and  gives  some  interesting  details  about  his 
interview  with  Deville,  the  phrenologist:  — 

"Mv  DEAR  Miss  MITFORD,— 

"  Send  me  the  charades,  and  I  will  forward  them  to  '  Black- 
wood.'  I  have  not  a  doubt  of  their  doing  your  opera  at 
Covent  Garden,  if  Charles  find  it  likely  to  succeed  —  which, 
from  the  nature  of  the  story,  must,  I  should  think,  be  the 
case.  I  really  think  Deville  was  right  about  my  head ;  and 
right,  in  fact,  even  when  he  appeared  to  be  wrong  in  his  de- 
scription. For  instance,  he  said  that  I  should  be  offended  by 
glaring  colors,  which  is  not  the  case.  I  have  the  eyes  of  colors, 
but  am  extremely  annoyed  by  colors  that  don't  harmonize, 


MARY  RUSSELL   MITFORD.  199 

though  I  am  rather  fond  of  strong  colors.  I  forget  whether, 
in  my  hurry  of  writing  to  you,  I  told  you  of  his  extraordinary 
exposition  of  the  character  of  my  friend  Newman's  little  hoy. 
The  child  went  with  me  ;  and  Deville  having  told  me  the  pro- 
pensities of  the  child's  character,  said,  '  There  is  one  thing 
very  remarkable  in  this  boy's  head  ;  I  never  saw  any  English 
child  with  the  perceptive  organs  so  strongly  marked.  In 
general,  the  English  have  strong  reflection,  and  the  for- 
eigners strong  perception ;  but  in  this  boy  there  is  an  exact 
and  beautiful  equality  subsisting  between  the  two.'  His 
mother  is,  as  you  know,  a  Portuguese.  This  was  an  admir- 
able hit. 

"  By  the  bye,  would  it  not  be  better  to  reserve  your  charades 
for  your  novel  ?  They  would  take  as  new,  and,  at  the  present 
time,  novelty  of  incident  is  the  very  thing  that  novels  want. 

"With  kindest  remembrances  to  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Mitford. 

"  Best  love, 
"  Yours  ever  most  faithfully, 

WILLIAM  HARNESS." 

One  of  these  charades  formed  a  complete  little  drama  of 
the  time  of  the  Commonwealth.  The  word  was  "  Match- 
lock," and  the  persona  a  Puritan's  daughter,  a  Cavalier,  and 
the  irritable  old  Puritan  himself.  The  last  of  the  series  pub- 
lished was  composed  entirely  by  Miss  Mitford.  It  was  on 
"  Blackwood,"  and  gave  an  exquisite  specimen  of  the  author- 
ess's poetic  talent,  and  of  her  power  in  describing  sylvan 
scenery. 

Miss  Mitford  in  the  following  letter  speaks  of  her  friend's 
production  with  her  characteristic  enthusiasm  :  — 

"THE  WIFE  OF  ANTWERP." 

"  THREE  MILK  CROSS,  Noi'cmbe*-  tfk,  1839. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,— 

"  Let  me  thank  you  most  sincerely  and  heartily  for  the  thrice 
beautiful  play.  I  have  read  it  with  equal  pride  and  pleasure  — 
a  triumphant  pleasure  in  such  an  evidence  of  the  sweet  and 


200  MARY  RUSSELL  MITFORD. 

gentle  power  of  my  oldest,  and,  I  might  almost  say,  my  kindest 
friend.  It  breathes  the  spirit  of  the  old  dramatists  from  first 
to  last,  especially  of  Hey  wood,  whose  '  Woman  killed  with 
Kindness  '  is  forcibly  recalled  ;  but  by  that  sort  of  resemblance 
which  springs  from  a  congeniality  of  talent,  and  makes  one 
say,  '  Heywood  might  have  written  this,  although  there  is 
much  more  of  the  letter  of  poetry,  more  finished  and  beautiful 
passages,  than  can  be  found  in  any  single  play  of  the  '  Prose 
Shakespeare.'  I  do  not  know  when  I  have  read  a  drama 
which  bore  such  evidence  of  the  author's  mind,  so  good,  so 
pure,  so  indulgent,  so  gentlemanly.  Lady  Dacre  told  me  that 
it  was  full  of  beauty  ;  but  I  did  not  expect  so  much  poetry, 
and  I  feel  sincerely  grateful  to  Mr.  Dyce  (whom  I  always  liked 
very  heartily  on  his  own  account)  for  rescuing  this  charming 
play  from  the  flames.  When  I  said  that  I  had  not  for  a  long 
time  seen  a  drama  so  full  of  the  author,  I  fibbed  unconsciously, 
for  it  is  into  plays  that  authors  do  put  their  very  selves.  The 
character  of  Kessel  is  very  beautiful  and  original,  and  the 
high-minded  Albert  and  poor,  poor  Margaret  have  made  me 
cry  more  than  I  can  tell.  At  all  events,  I  rejoice  to  have  it 
printed.  It  fixes  you  in  the  same  high  position  poetically  that 
you  have  always  occupied  socially  and  professionally.  It  is 
a  thing  for  your  friends  to  be  proud  of,  in  every  sense  of  the 
word.  If  the  tableaux  go  on,  I  shall  come  to  you  for  a  dra- 
matic scene.  Has  that  book  been  sent  yet  ?  You  will  be  very 
much  pleased  with  Miss  Barrett's  ballad,  in  spite  of  a  little 
want  of  clearness,  and  with  Mr.  Proctor's  spirited  poem.  In 
short,  it  is  the  only  book  bearing  my  name  of  which  I  was 
ever  proud  ;  but  if  we  go  on  I  shall  be  still  prouder  next  year 
to  have  you  added  to  my  list  of  poets  and  friends.  What  a 
thing  it  is,  by  mere  self-postponement  and  sympathy  in  the 
claims  of  others,  to  have  hidden  such  a  gift !  It  is  just  like 
what  your  sister  does,  who  —  cleverer  and  better  than  half  her 
acquaintances  —  always  speaks  of  herself  as  nobody. 

"God  bless  you  !      A  thousand  thanks  for  all  your  kind- 
ness. Ever  most  faithfully  yours, 

"  M.  R.  MITFORD." 


MARY  RUSSELL  MITFORD.  2OI 

Mr.  Harness  and  Miss  Mitford  were  bound  together  not 
only  by  early  associations,  but  by  a  mutual  geniality  of  tem- 
perament, and  a  sympathy  in  each  other's  tastes  and  pursuits. 
Both  were  ardent  lovers  of  literature,  especially  of  the  more 
social  branches  of  it,  and  both  fully  appreciated  the  powerful 
influence  obtained  by  the  Drama.  Miss  Mitford  had  an  espe- 
cial predilection  for  this  kind  of  composition.  "  If  I  have  any  • 
talent,"  she  writes,  "  it  is  for  the  Drama  ;  "  and  we  can  imagine 
the  relief  with  which  she  must  have  flown  from  the  cold 
cynicism  of  her  father  to  the  kindly  encouragement  of  her 
early  friend,  who  bade  her  continue  in  the  path  she  loved.  Nor 
can  we  assert  that  his  support  was  ill-judged,  when  we  read 
the  many  noble  and  touching  passages  which  adorn  "  Rienzi," 
and  recollect  the  success  it  achieved  —  a  success  which  would 
have  distinguished  its  author  had  she  never  etched  a  single 
episode  of  village  life.  There  may  perhaps  have  been  also  a 
kinder  motive  for  Mr.  Harness's  encouragement  ;  for  the 
theatre  then  offered  better  hopes  of  pecuniary  remuneration 
than  any  other  field  of  literature. 

The  affectionate  regard  which  Miss  Mitford  felt  towards 
her  early  friend  is  well  shown  by  the  following  gratifying 
offer :  — 

THREE  MILE  CROSS,  April  4,  1837. 

"  MY  DEAR  WILLIAM,  — 

"  I  have  only  one  moment  in  which  to  offer  a  petition  to  you. 
I  have  a  little  trumpery  volume  called  '  Country  Stories,'  about 
to  be  published  by  Saunders  and  Otley.  Will  you  permit  me 
to  give  these  Tales  some  little  value  in  my  own  eyes  by  in- 
scribing them  (of  course  in  a  few  true  and  simple  words)  to 
you,  my  old  and  most  kind  friend  ?  I  would  not  dedicate  a 
play  to  you,  for  fear  of  causing  you  injury  in  your  profession  ; 
but  I  do  not  think  that  this  slight  testimony  of  a  very  sincere 
affection  could  do  you  harm  in  that  way  ;  for  even  those 
who  do  not  allow  novels  in  their  house,  sanction  my  little 
books.  Ever  affectionately  yours, 

"  M.  R.  MITFORD." 


2O2  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

The  dedication  was  as  follows  :  —    • 

"To 

THE   KEV.    WILLIAM    HARNESS, 
Whose  old  hereditary  friendship 
Has  been  the  pride  and  pleasure 

Of  her  happiest  hours, 
Her  con*olation  in  the  sorrows, 

and 
Her  support  in  the  difficulties  of  life, 

This  little  volume 

Is  most  respectfully  and  affectionately 
Inscribed  by 

THK   AUTHOR." 

But  although  there  was  such  a  congeniality  in  literary  taste 
between  Mr.  Harness  and  Miss  Mitford,  they  were  at  issue  on 
a  more  important  subject.  Miss  Mitford's  views  on  religion 
were  decidedly  "  broad,"  although  they  would  have  appeared 
narrow  in  comparison  with  some  of  the  present  day.  Mr. 
Harness,  as  we  have  seen,  was  a  man  of  sound  doctrine,  and 
faithfully  attached  to  the  Church  of  England,  and  his  friend's 
views  caused  some  dissatisfaction  to  his  orthodox  mind.  He 
desired  to  bring  her  round  to  more  correct  opinions,  and  appar- 
ently wrote  to  her  on  the  subject ;  for  we  find  her,  in  a  letter, 
tenderly  requesting  him  not  to  press  arguments  upon  her 
which  could  not  alter  her  convictions,  and  deprecating  the  dis- 
cussion of  anything  which  might  create  a  distance  between  two 
such  early  friends. 

If  there  was  any  person  beyond  the  pale  of  Mr.  Harness's 
Christian  forbearance,  that  individual  was  Dr.  Mitford.  The 
reckless  manner  in  which  he  squandered  the  family  property, 
and  his  selfishness  even  to  the  last,  when  he  became  entirely 
dependent  on  his  daughter's  incessant  toil,  often  continued  by 
night  as  well  as  by  day,  would  have  estranged  the  affections 
of  any  but  one 

"  Whose  kind  heart  refused  to  discover 
The  fault*  which  to  many  could  find." 

The  history  of  Dr.  Mitford's  extravagance  and  folly  have 
been  written  by  Mr.  Harness  himself.  Like  other  men  of  his 
stamp,  the  doctor  seems  to  have  been  in  turn  the  impostor 


MARY  RUSSELL  MITFORD.  203 

and  the  dupe.  Mr.  Harness  disliked  not  only  his  morals,  but 
also  his  manners,  his  self-sufficiency  and  loud  talk,  and  could 
scarcely  understand  the  amount  of  filial  infatuation  which  led 
Miss  Mitford  to  speak  of  his  "modesty"  and  "excellence." 

Notwithstanding  Miss  Mitford's  slavery  at  the  pen,  the 
doctor  died  considerably  in  debt ;  and  although  her  poverty 
was  great,  she  retained  such  a  filial  regard  for  his  memory, 
that  she  boldly  announces  :  "  Everybody  shall  be  paid,  if  I 
sell  the  gown  off  my  back,  or  pledge  my  little  pension."  In 
these  difficulties  a  suggestion  was  made,  by  those  who  knew 
her  wide  popularity,  that  a  subscription  should  be  set  on  foot 
to  raise  a  sum  to  meet  these  liabilities.  The  response  to  the 
appeal  thus  made  by  Mr.  Harness  and  other  friends  was  more 
liberal  than  could  have  been  expected.  The  following  is  a 
letter  from  Mrs.  Opie  on  this  subject  :  — 

"  LADY'S  LANE,  2d  Afontk,  z\th,  1843- 

"  Mv  DEAR  FRIEND,  — 

"  I  thought  I  should  see  thy  name  on  poor  dear  Miss  Mit- 
ford's committee.  What  a  sad  tale  she  has  to  tell !  How 
she  has  been  tried  !  And  what  a  daughter  she  has  been  to  a 
most  unworthy  father  !  I  know  no  one  like  her  in  self-sacri- 
fice and  patient  endurance.  Surely,  under  such  circumstances, 
the  creditors  will  take  less  than  their  due,  and  wait  for  the  rest 
till  she  can  pay  it.  So  few  persons  like  to  subscribe  to  pay 
debts,  that  this  debt  of  ^800  or  ,£900  will  hang,  I  fear,  like  a 
millstone  over  the  subscription.  But  I  forget  —  this  debt 
paid,  she  may,  perhaps,  by  the  labors  of  her  pen,  support  her- 
self without  help.  And  I  do  hope  the  Queen  will  double  her 
pension. 

"  In  the  meanwhile,  I  am  begging  for  her.  I  intend  to  raise 
^20,  and  to  get  more  if  I  can.  I  shall  ask  a  sovereign  from 
eighteen  persons  —  I  have  in  hand  seven  already  —  and  then 
send  the  £20  up  to  some  one,  or  pay  it  into  Gurney's  bank,  to 
be  remitted  to  her  bankers.  In  such  a  case,  and  in  many 
cases,  begging  is  a  Christian  duty.  She  has  written  to  me 
and  sent  me  the  papers  to  distribute. 


2O4  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

"  I  think  she  would  have  gained  more  by  an  appeal  to  the 
public  in  .the  papers,  with  a  list  of  subscribers  ;  but  she  and 
you  and  her  agents  know  best  what  to  do.  I  shall  be  very 
sorry  if  I  do  not  raise  £20  or  more.  How  I  wish  it  were  as 
easy  for  me  to  serve  thy  nephew ! 

"  Believe  me, 

44  Much  thine, 

"AMELIA  OPIE." 

The  sum  collected  was  not  only  sufficient  to  cover  all  the 
outstanding  liabilities,  but  also  to  add  something  to  the  author- 
ess's narrow  income. 

During  the  last  two  years  of  her  life  Miss  Mitford's  health 
rapidly  declined.  Mr.  Harness  frequently  visited  her  at  this 
time  ;  and  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  shortly  before  her  death  she 
speaks  with  her  old  enthusiasm  of  her  early  friend  ;  — 

"  By  the  way,  this  most  dear  friend  of  mine  has  been  here 
for  ten  days  —  came  for  one  —  found  himself  a  lodging,  and 
has  stayed  ever  since,  and  will  stay  ten  days  longer.  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  him  ?  .  .  .  .  He  has  every  grace  and  accom- 
plishment—  person  (even  at  sixty  odd),  voice,  manner,  talent, 
literature,  and,  more  than  all,  the  sweetest  of  natures.  His 
father  gave  away  my  mother.  We  were  close  friends  in  child- 
hood, and  have  remained  such  ever  since.  And  now  he  leaves 
the  Deep  Dene,  with  all  its  beauty  of  scenery  and  society,  to 
come  to  me,  a  poor  sick  old  woman,  just  because  I  am  sick, 
and  old,  and  poor ;  and  because  we  have  loved  each  other  like 
brother  and  sister  all  our  lives.  How  I  wish  you  were  here  to 
hear  him  read  Shakespeare,  and  to  listen  to  conversation  that 
leaves  his  reading  far  behind  !  " 

In  a  note  written  to  himself  about  this  time,  and  in 
contemplation  of  her  own  approaching  dissolution,  she  ob- 
serves :  — 

"  You  are  left,  dear  friend,  to  be  the  one  green  oak  of  the 
forest,  after  the  meaner  trees  have  fallen  around  you.  May 
God  long  preserve  you  to  the  many  still  left  to  grow  up  under 
your  shade ! " 


MARY  RUSSELL  MITFORD.  2O5 

One  of  the  last  letters  written  by  Miss  Mitford  to  Mr.  Har- 
ness, and  marked  "immediate,"  contained  directions  with  re- 
gard to  the  publication  of  her  life  and  correspondence.  With 
characteristic  thoughtfulness,  she  avoids  preferring  any  formal 
request  that  might  inconvenience  her  friend  or  involve  him  in 
a  laborious  and  unprofitable  undertaking.  She  does  not  even 
express  any  opinion  as  to  the  value  of  her  literary  remains, 
but  rather  implies  a  doubt  whether  any  one  would  think  them 
worth  publishing.  Finally,  however,  she  gives  a  list  of  per- 
sons in  possession  of  her  correspondence,  and  observes  that 
no  one  knew  the  course  of  her  life  better  than  himself.  From 
the  tenor  of  this  letter  it  is  evident  that  she  wished  Mr.  Har- 
ness to  write  some  biographical  notice  of  her  ;  and  some  con- 
versations which  had  passed  between  them  confirmed  him  in 
this  opinion. 

Soon  after  his  friend's  death,  Mr.  Harness  commenced  the 
task  of  looking  through  her  letters,  but  he  found  the  work 
much  more  arduous  than  he  had  anticipated.  Although  her 
habits  were  in  every  respect  frugal,  her  favorite  economy 
seemed  to  be  in  paper.  Her  letters  were  scribbled  on  in- 
numerable small  scraps  —  sometimes  on  printed  circulars  — 
sometimes  across  engravings  —  and  half  a  dozen  of  these 
would  form  one  epistle,  and  had  in  course  of  time  become 
confused  and  interchanged  in  their  envelopes.  When  we  add 
to  this  that  towards  the  end  of  her  life  Miss  Mitford's  hand- 
writing became  almost  microscopic,  it  can  easily  be  understood 
that  the  arrangement  of  these  sibylline  leaves  was  no  short 
or  easy  undertaking.  Mr.  Harness  worked  hard  at  it,  out  of 
affection  for  his  lost  friend,  but  at  last  he  felt  that,  from  failing 
health,  he  must  either  abandon  his  design  or  call  in  to  his  as- 
sistance some  person  who  had  more  time  and  energy  to  devote 
to  its  prosecution.  Under  these  circumstances,  he  applied  to 
Mr.  Henry  Chorley,  a  man  of  well-known  literary  skill,  and  one 
of  Miss  Mitford's  most  intimate  friends. 

In  the  meanwhile  a  difficulty  arose  from  a  most  unexpected 
quarter.  A  year  before  Miss  Mitford's  death,  she  made  her 
will,  and  left  her  servants  K.  and  Sam  her  residuary  legatees. 


206  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

It  is  possible  that  at  that  time  she  thought  nothing  about  her 
letters,  or  any  life  which  might  be  written  of  her,  and  felt 
satisfied  that  at  all  events  she  was  leaving  everything  in  the 
safe  custody  of  her  executors. 

No  literary  person  would  ever  dream  of  committing  their 
private  correspondence  to  the  hands  of  half-educated  servants, 
or  indeed  to  those  of  any  one  in  whose  judgment  and  ability 
they  had  not  the  fullest  confidence.  Something  seems  to  have 
occurred  to  her  mind  on  this  subject  at  the  very  last,  and,  be- 
ing ignorant  of  law,  she  thought  a  letter  to  Mr.  Harness,  her 
executor,  would  be  in  every  way  a  sufficient  safeguard.1  To- 
wards the  end  of  her  life,  she  became  very  much  dependent 
on  her  maid,  and  probably  in  one  of  those  ebullitions  of  gen- 
erosity for  which  she  was  remarkable,  left  her  all  her  little 
property.  On  account  of  the  objections  raised,  Mr.  Chorley 
refused  to  proceed  with  the  work,  unless  an  arrangement 
could  be  made  with  the  Sweetmans.  They,  on  their  part, 
put  in  exorbitant  claims,  and  Mr.  Chorley  withdrew,  observ- 
ing that  the  work  would  barely  remunerate  the  editor.  The 
undertaking  was  then  relinquished,  apparently  forever. 

Mr.  Harness  always  considered  the  demands  of  the  Sweet- 
mans  to  be  merely  vexatious,  as  he  knew  well  the  wishes  of 
his  life-long  friend  and  the  entire  confidence  she  placed  in 
him.  He  was  also  fully  convinced  that  her  servants  had  no 
legal  claim  whatever  on  any  portion  of  her  literary  corre- 
spondence. 

We  thus  entered  upon  the  work  with  a  flowing  sail,  and 
spent  two  years  not  unpleasantly  in  deciphering  and  arranging 
the  multifarious  materials,  so  as  to  form  an  agreeable  and  con- 
tinuous narrative  of  the  life  of  the  popular  authoress.  One 
great  difficulty  we  encountered  spoke  favorably  for  the  promise 
of  the  book.  We  had  such  a  redundance  of  good  matter,  of 
clever  criticism  and  graceful  description,  that  we  found  it  very 
difficult  to  compress  it  into  anything  like  readable  propor- 
tions. 

1  The  Sweetmans  afterwards  filed  a  bill  in  chancery  against  Mr.  Bentley  and  my- 
self. It  wa»  ditmitsed  without  costs. 


HARNESS  AT  STRATFORD.  207 

The  Life  of  Mary  Russell  Mitford,  commenced  in  1866,  was 
three  years  in  progress.  In  the  autumn  of  1868  it  appeared 
to  be  ready,  and  we  offered  it  to  several  leading  publishers, 
who  all  declined  it  upon  different  grounds.  Even  Mr.  Bentley, 
who  at  first  entertained  the  proposal,  afterwards  withdrew  on 
receiving  an  adverse  critique.  He  at  the  same  time  observed 
that  if  the  work  were  reduced  to  half  its  dimensions  he  might 
still  entertain  it.  Mr.  Harness  undertook  the  abridgment,  and, 
but  for  my  strenuous  opposition,  would  have  curtailed  his  own 
introductory  notices,  and  omitted  the  first  letter,  which  is 
characteristic  and  interesting  from  its  date.  In  a  few  months 
he  resigned  his  undertaking  ;  he  was  feeling  the  weakness  in- 
separable from  advanced  age ;  and  the  careful  reduction  of 
six  volumes  to  three  required  no_slight  amount  of  reading  and 
attention.  He  accordingly  placed  the  further  revision  of  the 
work  entirely  in  my  hands. 

HARNESS  AT  STRATFORD. 

Mr.  Harness  yielded  to  few  in  his  enthusiasm  for  Shake- 
speare. He  was  wont  to  say  that  his  plays  contained  almost 
everything.  In  his  early  years,  inspired  with  youthful  ardor, 
he  made  a  pilgrimage  to  the  birthplace  of  the  great  poet,  and 
although  he  started  with  the  intention  of  staying  there  only 
four  days,  he  ended  by  remaining  five  weeks.  He  was  charmed 
with  the  place,  and  spent  his  time  most  enjoyably  in  ex- 
ploring the  beauties  of  the  country,  and  in  visiting  the  spots 
hallowed  by  the  dramatist's  memory.  He  told  me  that  at  the 
close  of  one  long  summer  day,  after  returning  from  a  walk  to 
Anne  Hathaway's  cottage,  he  took  out  his  volume  of  Shake- 
speare, which  was  his  constant  companion,  and  opening  it  at 
"  King  John,"  became  completely  absorbed  in  the  tragic  story. 
Time  flew  by  rapidly  and  unheeded,  until  warned  by  his  wan- 
ing lamp,  he  started  up  and  found  that  it  was  past  midnight. 
He  went  to  the  window  ;  the  stars  were  shining  brightly  in  the 
clear  sky  and  shedding  their  thin  light  over  the  old  gabled 
houses  and  lofty  elm-trees  ;  the  night  was  breezeless,  and  all 
was  shrouded  in  silence.  Suddenly  the  church  clock  struck 


208  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

one.  The  deep  booming  reverberated  through  the  stillness 
as  though  it  would  awake  the  spirits  of  the  past ;  the  hour  and 
the  scene  were  alike  inspired.  Mr.  Harness  thought  how 
"  that  great  man "  might  have  listened  to  the  same  solemn 
stroke,  and  recalled  the  lines  :  — 

"  The  midnight  bell 

Did  with  his  iron  tongue  and  brazen  mouth 
Sound  '  one  '  unto  the  drowsy  race  of  night.''  ' 

Mr.  Harness  found  the  inscription  on  Shakespeare's  monu- 
ment in  a  very  imperfect  condition.  He  had  it  restored  at 
his  own  expense.  Above  the  epitaph  by  Ben  Jonson  is  the 
line  :  — 

"  Judicio  Pylium,  genio  Socralem,  arte  Maronem," 

the  false  quantity  in  which  offended  Mr.  Harness's  classical 
ear,  and  he  proposed  to  substitute  "  Sophoclem  "  for  "  Socra- 
tem."  The  mistake  might  have  been  due  to  some  ignorant 
copyist ;  and  the  genius  of  Shakespeare  seemed  as  much  allied 
to  that  of  the  great  tragedian  as  to  that  of  the  philosopher. 
He  much  regretted  that  the  original  coloring  of  the  bust  had 
not  been  allowed  to  remain. 

His  EDITION  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

His  edition  of  Shakespeare  was  published  by  Mr.  Harness 
immediately  after  his  appointment  to  St.  Pancras.  It  had  been 
prepared  when  he  was  residing  at  Hampstead,  and  had  no 
parochial  cure,  but  only  Sunday  duty  in  London.  He  did  not 
confine  himself  in  his  undertaking  to  merely  adding  notes  to  the 
text  of  the  poet  ;  but  also  prefixed  a  Life,  which  occupied  the 
first  volume.  This  biography  was  remarkable  for  its  scrupulous 
impartiality ;  no  such  record  being  in  his  opinion  instructive 
or  valuable,  which  was  not  absolutely  faithful  in  all  its  details, 
and  which  did  not  chronicle  the  frailties  as  well  as  the  virtues 
of  its  subject.  Miss  Mitford,  in  praising  the  work,  says,  "  I 
am  quite  delighted  with  your  edition  of  Shakespeare.  It  must 
do.  The  '  Life  '  is  like  the  portrait  affixed  to  it ;  the  old  be- 
loved, well-known  features  which  we  all  have  by  heart,  but 

1  Act  iii.  scene  3. 


ffIS  EDITION  OF  SHAKESPEARE. 

inspired  with  a  fresh  spirit."  She  objects,  however,  to  his 
over-sensitiveness  and  anxiety  to  notice  all  the  invidious  al- 
legations made  against  his  author's  fame.  But  Mr.  Harness 
thought  it  unworthy  of  the  character  of  the  great  poet  to  allow 
him  to  gain  anything  by  concealment ;  and  speaking  of  his 
early  days  at  Stratford,  and  of  the  probability  that  he  assisted 
his  father  in  the  unpoetical  trade  of  a  butcher,  he  emphati- 
cally rejects  "  that  absurd  spirit  of  refinement  which  is  only 
too  common  among  the  writers  of  biography,  as  well  as  history, 
and  which  induces  them  to  conceal  or  misrepresent  every  oc- 
currence which  is  at  all  of  a  humiliating  nature,  and  does  not 
accord  with  those  false  and  effeminate  notions  so  generally  en- 
tertained respecting  the  dignity  of  that  peculiar  class  of  com- 
position." He,  at  the  same  time,  blames  the  severity  with 
which  Shakespeare's  early  vagaries  were  punished  by  Sir 
Thomas  Lucy.  "  Every  contemporary,"  he  says,  "  who  has 
spoken  of  our  author,  has  been  lavish  in  the  praise  of  his 
temper  and  disposition.  'The  gentle  Shakespeare  '  seems  to 
have  been  his  distinguishing  appellation.  No  slight  portion 
of  our  enthusiasm  for  his  writings  may  be  traced  to  the  fair 
picture  which  they  present  of  the  author's  character.  We 
love  the  tenderness  of  heart,  the  candor,  and  openness,  and 
singleness  of  mind,  the  largeness  of  sentiment,  the  liberality 
of  opinion,  which  the  whole  tenor  of  his  works  proves  him  to 
have  possessed.  His  faults  seem  to  have  been  the  transient 
aberrations  of  a  thoughtless  moment,  which  reflection  never 
failed  to  correct ;  the  ebullition  of  high  spirits  might  mislead 
him  ;  but  the  principles  and  the  affections  never  swerved  from 
what  was  right.  Against  such  a  person,  the  extreme  severity 
of  the  magistrate  should  not  have  been  exerted.  But  the 
powerful  enemy  of  Shakespeare  was  not  to  be  appeased  ;  the 
heart  of  the  Puritan  or  the  game-preserver  is  very  rarely  formed 
of  '  penetrable  stuff.'  Our  author  fled  from  the.  inflexible 
persecutions  of  his  opponent  to  seek  shelter  in  the  metropolis  ; 
and  he  found  friends  and  wealth  and  fame  where  he  had  only 
hoped  for  an  asylum.  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  remained  to  enjoy 
the  triumph  of  his  victory,  and  he  yet  survives,  in  the  char- 
id 


210  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

acter  of  Justice  Shallow,  as  the  laughing-stock  of  poster- 
ity." » 

"  Shakespeare's  first  employment  in  connection  with  the 
theatre  in  London,  presents  us  with  a  characteristic  picture  of 
the  times.  He  was  to  receive  the  horses  of  those  who  rode  to 
the  performance,  and  was  to  hold  them  until  the  end  of  the 
performance.  He  became,  we  are  told,  such  a  favorite  in  this 
office,  that  every  one,  when  he  alighted,  called  out,  '  Will 
Shakespeare  ! '  and  he  soon  was  in  such  demand  that  he  hired 
young  men  to  assist  him,  who  would  present  themselves,  say- 
ing, '  I  am  Shakespeare's  boy,  sir  ! '  That  the  above  anec- 
dote was  really  communicated  by  Pope,"  adds  Mr.  Harness, 
"there  is  no  room  to  doubt." 

"  But  however  inferior,"  he  continues,  "  was  the  situation 
which  Shakespeare  first  occupied,  his  talents  were  not  long 
buried  in  obscurity.  He  rapidly  rose  to  the  first  station  in  the 
theatre,  and  by  the  power  of  his  genius,  raised  our  national 
dramatic  poetry,  then  in  its  infancy,  to  the  highest  state  of 
perfection  which  it  is  perhaps  capable  of  reaching." 

SHAKESPEARE  AS  A  PLAYER. 

Speaking  of  the  characters  played  by  Shakespeare,  Mr.  Har- 
ness draws  the  following  conclusions  :  "It  would  appear  that 
the  class  of  characters  to  which  the  histrionic  exertions  of 
Shakespeare  were  confined  was  that  of  elderly  persons  —  parts 
rather  of  declamation  than  of  passion.  With  a  countenance 
which,  if  any  of  his  pictures  is  a  genuine  resemblance  of  him, 
we  may  adduce  that  one  as  our  authority  for  esteeming  capable 
of  every  variety  of  expression  ;  with  a  knowledge  of  the  art 
which  rendered  him  fit  to  be  the  teacher  of  the  first  actors 
of  his  day,  and  to  instruct  Joseph  Taylor  in  the  character 
of  Hamlet,  and  John  Lowine  in  that  of  King  Henry  the 

1  (Note  by  Mr.  Harness.)  "There  on  be  no  doubt  that  Justice  Shallow  was 
designed  .is  the  representative  of  the  knight.  If  the  traditional  authority  of  this 
feet  were  not  quite  satisfactory,  the  description  of  his  coat  of  arms  in  the  first  scene 
of  Tkt  Merry  Wivei  of  Windier,  which  is,  with  very  slight  deviation,  that  of  the 
Lucys,  would  be  sufficient  to  direct  us  to  the  original  of  the  portrait.*1 


GOODNESS  OF  SHAKESPEARE'S   WRITING.      2 1 1 

Eighth  ;  with  such  admirable  qualifications  for  preeminence, 
we  must  infer  that  nothing  but  some  personal  defect  could 
have  reduced  him  to  limit  the  exercise  of  his  powers,  and  even 
in  youth  assume  the  slow  and  deliberate  motion  which  is  the 
characteristic  of  old  age.  In  his  minor  poems  we  perhaps 
trace  the  origin  of  this  direction  of  his  talents.  It  appear* 
from  two  places  in  his  Sonnets  that  he  was  lamed  by  some 
accident.  In  the  37th  Sonnet  he  writes  :  — 

'  So  I  made  lame  by  Fortune's  dearest  spite.' 

And  in  the  Spth  he  again  alludes  to  his  infirmity,  and  says,  — 

'  Speak  of  my  lameness,  and  I  straight  will  halt.' 

This  imperfection  would  necessarily  have  rendered  him  unfit 
to  appear  as  the  representative  of  any  characters  of  youthful 
ardor,  in  which  rapidity  of  movement  or  violence  of  exertion 
was  demanded,  and  would  oblige  him  to  apply  his  powers  to 
such  parts  as  were  compatible  with  his  measured  and  impeded 
action.  Malone  has  most  inefficiently  attempted  to  explain 
away  the  palpable  meaning  of  the  above  lines,  and  adds,  '  If 
Shakespeare  was  in  truth  lame,  he  had  it  not  in  his  power  to 
halt  occasionally  for  this  or  any  other  purpose,  the  defect  must 
have  been  fixed  and  permanent.'  Not  so  !  Surely  many  an 
infirmity  of  the  kind  may  be  skillfully  concealed,  or  only  be- 
come visible  in  the  moments  of  hurried  movement.  Either 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  or  Lord  Byron  might,  without  any  impro- 
priety, have  written  the  verses  in  question  ;  they  would  have 
been  applicable  to  either  of  them.  Indeed  the  lameness  of 
Lord  Byron  was  exactly  such  as  Shakespeare's  might  have 
been ;  and  I  remember,  as  a  boy,  that  he  selected  those 
speeches  for  declamation  which  would  not  constrain  him  to 
the  use  of  such  exertions  as  might  obtrude  the  defect  of  his 
person  into  notice." 

GOODNESS  OF  SHAKESPEARE'S  WRITING. 

Mr.  Harness  was  acustomed  to  say  that  all  that  Shake- 
speare wrote  was  good,  but  that  many  passages  were  attributed 
to  him  which  were  not  authentic.  He  explains  his  views  on 
the  corruptions  of  the  text  in  the  following  words  :  — 


212  WILLIAM  HARNESS 

"  If  Shakespeare  still  appears  to  us  the  first  of  poets,  it  is  in 
spite  of  every  possible  disadvantage  to  which  his  own  sublime 
contempt  of  applause  had  exposed  his  fame,  from  the  igno- 
rance, the  avarice,  or  the  officiousness  of  his  early  editors.  To 
these  causes  it  is  to  be  ascribed  that  the  writings  of  Shake- 
speare have  come  down  to  us  in  a  state  more  imperfect  than 
those  of  any  other  author  of  his  time,  and  requiring  every  ex- 
ertion of  critical  skill  to  illustrate  and  amend  them.  That  so 
little  should  be  known  with  certainty  of  the  history  of  his  life 
was  the  natural  consequence  of  the  events  which  immediately 
followed  his  dissolution.  It  is  true  that  the  age  in  which  he 
flourished  was  little  curious  about  the  lives  of  literary  men  ; 
but  our  ignorance  must  not  wholly  be  attributed  to  the  want  of 
curiosity  in  the  immediate  successors  of  the  poet.  The  public 
mind  soon  became  violently  agitated  in  the  conflict  of  opposite 
opinions.  Every  individual  was  called  upon  to  take  his  stand 
as  the  partisan  of  a  religious  or  political  faction.  Each  was 
too  intimately  occupied  with  his  personal  interest  to  find  leisure 
for  so  peaceful  a  pursuit  as  tracing  the  biography  of  a  poet. 
If  this  was  the  case  during  the  time  of  civil  commotion,  under 
the  Puritanical  dynasty  of  Cromwell  the  stage  was  totally  de- 
stroyed ;  and  the  life  of  a  dramatic  author,  however  eminent 
his  merits,  would  not  only  have  been  considered  as  a  subject 
undeserving  of  inquiry,  but  only  worthy  of  contempt  and  abom- 
ination. The  genius  of  Shakespeare  was  dear  to  Milton  and 
to  Dryden  ;  to  a  few  lofty  minds  and  gifted  spirits  ;  but  it  was 
dead  to  the  multitude  of  his  countrymen,  who,  in  their  foolish 
bigotry,  would  have  considered  their  very  houses  polluted  if 
they  had  contained  a  copy  of  his  works. 

"  After  the  Restoration  these  severe  restrictions  were  re- 
laxed ;  and,  as  is  universally  the  case,  the  counter-action  was 
correspondent  to  the  action.  The  nation  suddenly  exchanged 
the  rigid  austerity  of  Puritanism  for  the  extreme  of  profligacy 
and  licentiousness.  When  the  Drama  was  revived,  it  existed 
no  longer  to  inculcate  such  lessons  of  morality  as  were  en- 
forced by  the  contrition  of  Macbeth,  the  purity  of  Isabel,  or  the 
suffering  constancy  of  Imogen  ;  but  to  teach  modesty  to  blush 


GOODNESS  OF  SHAKESPEARE'S   WRITING.      21$ 

at  its  own  innocence,  to  corrupt  the  heart  by  pictures  of  de- 
bauchery, and  to  exalt  a  gay  selfishness  and  daring  sensuality 
above  all  that  is  noble  in  principle  and  honorable  in  action. 
At  this  period  Shakespeare  was  forgotten.  He  wrote  not  for 
such  profligate  times.  His  sentiments  would  have  been  met 
by  no  correspondent  feelings  in  the  breasts  of  such  audiences 
as  were  then  collected  within  the  walls  of  the  metropolitan 
theatres,  composed  of  men  who  came  to  hear  their  vices  flat- 
tered, and  of  women  masked,  ashamed  to  show  their  faces  at 
representations  which  they  were  sufficiently  abandoned  to  de- 
light in.  The  jesting,  lying,  bold  intriguing  rake,  whom  Shake- 
speare had  rendered  contemptible  in  Lucio,  and  hateful  in 
lachimo,  was  the  very  character  that  the  dramatists  of  Charles's 
time  were  painting  after  the  model  of  the  court  favorites,  and 
representing  in  false  colors  as  a  deserving  object  of  approba- 
tion. French  taste  and  French  morals  had  banished  our 
author  from  the  stage,  and  his  name  had  faded  from  the  mem- 
ory of  the  people.  Tate,  in  his  altered  play  of  "  King  Lear," 
mentions  the  original,  in  his  dedication,  as  an  obscure  piece. 
The  author  of  the  "  Tattler,"  in  quoting  some  lines  of  "  Mac- 
beth," cites  them  from  the  disfigured  alteration  of  D'Avenant. 
The  works  of  Shakespeare  were  only  read  by  those  whom  the 
desire  of  literary  plunder  induced  to  pry  into  the  volumes  of 
antiquated  authors,  with  the  hope  of  discovering  some  neg- 
lected jewels  that  might  be  clandestinely  transferred  to  enrich 
their  own  poverty  of  invention  ;  and  so  little  were  the  produc- 
tions of  the  most  gifted  poet  that  ever  ventured  to  embark  on 
the  varying  waters  of  the  imagination  known  to  the  generality 
of  his  countrymen,  that  Otway  stole  the  character  of  the  Nurse, 
and  all  the  love-scenes  of  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  and  published 
them  as  his  own  without  the  slightest  acknowledgment  of  the 
obligation  or  any  apprehension  of  detection.  A  better  taste 
returned  ;  and  when,  nearly  a  century  after  the  death  of  Shake- 
speare, Rowe  undertook  to  superintend  an  edition  of  his  Plays, 
and  to  collect  the  memoirs  of  his  life,  the  race  had  passed 
away  from  whom  any  certain  recollections  of  the  great 
national  poet  might  have  been  gathered,  and  nothing  better 


214  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

was  to  be  obtained  than  the  slight  notes  of  Aubrey,  the  scat- 
tered hints  of  Oldys,  the  loose  intimations  which  had  escaped 
from  D'Avenant,  and  the  vague  reports  which  Betterton  had 
gleaned  in  his  pilgrimage  to  Stratford." 

THE  GLOBE  THEATRE. 

The  following  sketch  by  Mr.  Harness  of  the  manner  in 
which  the  performances  of  the  theatre  were  conducted,  affords 
an  interesting  picture  of  the  times  :  he  was  always  fond  of 
characteristic  details  :  — 

"  The  '  Globe  '  and  the  play-house  in  '  Blackfriars  '  were  the 
property  of  the  company  to  which  Shakespeare  was  himself 
attached,  and  by  whom  all  his  productions  were  exhibited. 
The  '  Globe '  appears  to  have  been  a  wooden  building,  of  a 
considerable  size,  hexagonal  without  and  circular  within  ;  it 
was  thatched  in  part,  but  a  large  portion  of  the  roof  was  open 
to,  the  weather.  This  was  the  company's  summer  theatre,  and 
the  plays  were  acted  by  daylight.  At  the  '  Blackfriars,'  on  the 
contrary,  which  was  the  winter  theatre,  the  top  was  entirely 
closed,  and  the  performances  were  exhibited  by  candle-light. 
In  every  other  respect  the  economy  and  usages  of  the  houses 
appear  to  have  been  the  same,  and  to  have  resembled  those  of 
every  other  contemporary  theatre. 

"  With  respect  to  the  interior  arrangements  there  were  very 
few  points  of  difference  between  our  modern  theatres  and 
those  of  the  days  of  Shakespeare.  The  terms  of  admission 
indeed  were  considerably  cheaper  ;  to  the  boxes  the  entrance 
was  a  shilling  ;  to  the  pit  and  galleries  only  sixpence  ;  sixpence 
also  was  the  price  paid  for  stools  upon  the  stage  ;  and  these 
seats,  as  we  learn  from  Dekker's  '  Gull's  Hornbook,'  were  pe- 
culiarly affected  by  the  wits  and  critics  of  the  time.  The  con- 
duct of  the  audience  was  less  restrained  by  the  sense  of  public 
decorum,  and  smoking  tobacco,  playing  at  cards,  eating  and 
drinking,  were  generally  prevalent  among  them.  The  hour 
of  performance  also  was  earlier  ;  the  play  beginning  at  first  at 
one,  and  afterwards  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  During 
the  time  of  representation  a  flag  was  unfurled  at  the  top  of  the 


THE   GLOBE    THEATRE.  21$ 

theatre,  and  the  floor  of  the  stage  (as  was  the  case  with  every 
floor  at  the  time  from  the  cottage  to  the  palace)  was  strewn 
with  rushes.  But  in  other  respects,  the  ancient  theatres  seem 
to  have  been  very  nearly  similar  to  those  of  modern  times  ; 
they  had  their  pit,  where  the  inferior  class  of  spectators,  the 
'groundlings,'  vented  their  clamorous  censure  or  approbation  ; 
they  had  their  boxes,  to  which  the  right  of  exclusive  admission 
was  hired  by  the  night  for  the  more  wealthy  and  refined  por- 
tion of  the  audience  ;  and  there  were  again  the  galleries  or  scaf- 
folds above  the  boxes,  for  those  who  were  content  to  purchase 
inferior  accommodation  at  a  cheaper  rate.  On  the  stage,  the 
arrangements  appear  to  have  been  nearly  the  same  as  at  pres- 
ent ;  the  curtain  divided,  the  audience  from  the  actors,  which  at 
the  third  sounding  —  not  indeed  of  the  bell,  but  of  the  trumpet 
—  was  withdrawn  for  the  commencement  of  the  performance. 
With  regard  to  the  use  of  scenery,  it  is  scarcely  possible, 
from  the  very  circumstances  of  the  case,  that  such  a  contri- 
vance should  have  escaped  our  ancestors.  All  the  materials 
were  ready  to  their  hands  ;  they  had  not  to  invent  for  them- 
selves, but  to  adapt  an  old  invention  to  their  purposes,  and  at  a 
time  when  every  better  apartment  was  adorned  with  tapestry  ; 
when  even  the  rooms  of  the  commonest  taverns  were  hung 
with  painted  cloths  :  while  all  the  essentials  of  scenery  were 
continually  before  their  eyes,  we  can  hardly  believe  our  fore- 
fathers to  have  been  so  deficient  in  ingenuity  as  never  to  have 
conceived  the  design  of  converting  the  common  ornaments  of 
their  walls  into  the  decorations  of  their  theatres.  Mr.  Gifford, 
who  adheres  to  Malone's  opinion,  says,  'A  table,  with  a  pen  and 
ink  thrust  in,  signified  that  the  stage  was  a  counting-house  ;  if 
these  were  withdrawn,  and  two  stools  put  in  their  places,  it  was 
then  a  tavern  ; '  and  this  might  be  satisfactory  as  long  as  the 
business  of  the  play  was  supposed  to  have  been  passing  within 
doors  ;  but  when  it  was  removed  to  the  open  air,  such  meagre 
devices  would  no  longer  be  sufficient  to  guide  the  imagination 
of  the  audience,  and  some  new  method  must  have  been 
adopted  to  indicate  the  place  of  action.  After  giving  the  sub- 
ject considerable  attention,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  Stee- 


2l6  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

vens  was  right  in  rejecting  the  evidence  of  Malone,  and  con- 
cluding that  the  spectators  were,  as  at  the  present  day,  assisted 
in  following  the  progress  of  the  story  by  means  of  painted  and 
movable  scenery."  l 

MRS.  SIDDONS. 

It  must  be  remembered  that,  in  the  days  in  which  Mr.  Har- 
ness wrote,  the  legitimate  drama  had  not  yet  been  superseded 
by  extravagant  and  ephemeral  representations.  A  charge  of 
pedantry  might  have  been  brought  against  the  stage  with  more 
justice  than  one  of  frivolity.  The  theatres,  of  which  there 
were  but  two,  were  not  places  for  idleness  and  dissipation, 
but  for  study  and  intellectual  enjoyment.  There  were  then 
no  stalls  ;  nor  did  the  pit  offer  that  cheap  rate  of  accommo- 
dation which  has  tempted  managers  to  introduce  perform- 
ances of  a  broad  and  tawdry  character.  Moreover,  the  lovers 
of  Shakespeare  could  then  have  their  taste  gratified  to  an  ex- 
tent which  has  since  been  impossible.  The  works  of  the 
great  dramatist  were  rightly  represented  by  the  combined  tal- 
ent of  the  Kemble  family.  Under  them,  the  stage  became  a 
source  of  high  moral,  as  well  as  artistic,  instruction.  Never, 
since  the  days  of  classic  Attica,  had  the  drama  struck  so 
deeply  the  finer  chords  of  the  human  heart  ;  and  the  well- 
read  volume  was  as  frequent  in  the  pit  as  was  the  white  hand- 
kerchief in  the  gilded  tiers.  So  jealous  at  this  time  were  the 
audience  of  the  fame  of  the  great  dramatist,  that  I  have  been 
told  that  the  omission  of  a  single  line,  or  even  of  a  word, 
would  call  forth  an  immediate  expression  of  disapproval. 
The  proud  sovereign  of  this  assemblage  of  high-born  women 
and  scholarly  men  was  no  less  a  person  than  Mrs.  Siddons, 
who  seems  to  have  enjoyed  a  celebrity  verging  upon  adora- 
tion. At  her  appearance  enthusiastic  applause  rang  through 
the  crowded  house.  None  who  had  not  seen  her  could  ever 
realize  the  impression  she  made.  As  she  walked  the  stage 

1  This  opinion  is  confirmed  by  the  ancient  stage  directions.     In  the  folio  Shake- 
speare, of  1623,  we  read*  Enter  Brutus,  in  Ait  artkard ;'  'Enter  Timon,  in  tht 
i ; '  '  Enter  Timon,  from  kit  eavt.' 


A/XS.   SJDDONS.  217 

like  one  of  Nature's  queens,  all  could  understand  the  dignity 
of  motion  implied  in  Virgil's  expression  :  — 

"  Incessu  pntuit  dea." 

Campbell  speaks  of  "her  lofty  beauty,  her  graceful  walk 
and  gesture."  And  when  we  add  to  this  the  charm  of  her 
flexible  and  expressive  voice,  we  cannot  be  surprised  at  the 
admiration  she  awakened.  Few  who  saw  her  ever  forgot  her. 
Crabbe  Robinson  used  to  say  that  he  prided  himself  on  three 
things ;  he  had  been  intimate  with  Goethe,  he  had  made  a 
walking  tour  with  Wordsworth,  and  he  had  seen  Mrs.  Siddons. 
Mr.  Harness  could  not  be  less  deeply  impressed  by  one  who 
so  eloquently  interpreted  his  favorite  oracle  ;  and  as  might 
have  been  expected,  he  regarded  her  performance  from  a  criti- 
cal point  of  view.  "  Her  high  judgment  watched  over  her 
qualifications."  "It  was  not  merely  her  appearance  that  gave 
her  such  power,"  observed  Mr.  Harness,  "  she  owed  much  to 
her  persevering  industry.  She  admitted  to  me  one  day,  in  re- 
ply to  a  question,  that,  although  it  might  sound  egotistical  for 
her  to  say  it,  she  did  not  think  that  there  would  be  again  such 
an  impersonation  of  Calista  1  as  her  own,  taking  into  consider- 
ation the  voice,  the  use  of  the  stage,  and  above  all  the  labori- 
ous study."  On  a  later  occasion,  when  he  was  referring  to 
the  excellence  of  her  intonation,  she  observed  that  over-exer- 
tion in  large  theatres  had  injured  her  power  of  expression, 
which  was  much  greater  in  her  earlier  days.  The  perfection 
at  which  she  had  arrived  in  her  art,  and  the  skill  with  which 
she  equaled  Nature,  may  be  estimated  from  a  reply  made  to 
Mr.  Harness  by  a  well-known  critic,  when  he  observed  that 
Mrs.  Siddons  had  played  her  part  with  spirit  on  the  previous 
night.  "  Yes,"  returned  his  friend,  "  but  I  never  before  saw 
her  so  much  like  an  actress." 

Mr.  Harness  related  the  following  anecdote  in  which  the  con- 
duct of  the  great  actress  was  very  characteristic.  He  was  din- 
ing at  Lord  Lonsdale's,  and  among  the  company  were  Mrs. 
Siddons  and  Mr.  and  Miss  Edgeworth.  Mr.  Edgeworth,  who 

1  A  part  in  Tht  Fair  Penitent  for  which  she  was  celebrated- 


2l8  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

was  sitting  next  to  Mrs.  Siddons,  Sam  Rogers  being  on  the 
other  side  of  her,  observed  after  dinner,  "  Madam,  I  think  I 
saw  you  perform  Millamont  thirty-five  years  ago."  "  Pardon 
me,  sir."  "  Oh  !  then  it  was  forty  years  ago  ;  I  distinctly  rec- 
ollect it."  "  You  will  excuse  me,  sir,  I  never  played  Milla- 
mont." "  Oh,  yes,  ma'am,  I  recollect."  "  I  think,"  she  replied, 
turning  to  Mr.  Rogers,  "  it  is  time  for  me  to  change  my  place," 
and  she  rose  with  her  own  peculiar  dignity.1 

PROSPERO'S  ISLAND. 

Mr.  Harness  objected  much  to  the  over-inquisitive  spirit 
which  some  critics  have  evinced  in  the  study  of  Shakespeare. 
In  a  review  in  the  "  Quarterly  "  of  "  Hunter  on  the  '  Tempest,' " 
in  which  he  blames  the  writer  for  his  persistent  endeavors 
to  define  the  localities  mentioned  in  that  play,  he  writes  as 
follows  :  — 

"  The  island  was  called  into  existence  by  a  far  more  potent 
magician  than  even  Prospero  ;  and  '  like  the  baseless  fabric 
of  a  vision  '  melted  '  into  thin  air,'  leaving  '  no  rack  behind,' 
with  a  deep  and  solemn  sound  of  funeral  music,  on  the  2yl 
April,, 1616,  the  day  when  that  mighty  master  died.  After  the 
departure  of  Prospero  and  Miranda,  it  was  never  visited  again 
by  any  human  creature.  The  unearthly  inhabitants  possessed 
it  altogether  till  the  hour  of  its  dissolution.  They  were  then 
variously  dispersed.  Caliban,  clinging  to  one  of  the  largest 
logs  which  Ferdinand  had  so  industriously  piled  up,  but  which 
had  never  been  '  burnt,'  was  floated  on  it  in  safety  to  the  coast 
of  Algiers.  Ariel,  with  all  his  subtle  company,  the  '  elves  of 
hills,  brooks,  standing  lakes  and  groves,'  clapping  their  tiny 
hands,  and  singing  '  Where  the  bee  sucks  '  in  sweetest  melody 
and  fullest  chorus,  flitter  away  delighted  to  meet  the  spirit  of 
the  great  magician  from  whose  fancy  they  had  derived  their 
life  and  being,  and  to  pour  forth  their  gratulations  around  him 
as  he  ascended  on  his  upward  way  to  regions  more  bright  and 

1  This  incident  is  (aid,  by  Crabbe  Robinson,  to  have  occurred  at  Mr.  Sotheby's; 
but  there  wa*  »ome  confusion  in  hi*  mind  on  the  subject.  It  was  related  to  him  by 
Mr  Harness. 


THE  KEMBLES  IN  AMERICA.  2 1 9 

pure  and  ethereal  than  any  to  which  they  even  '  in  their  pride 
of  flight '  could  venture  to  aspire.  Since  that  happy  hour  they 
have  all  dwelt  in  harmony  together  in  one  of  the  fairest  and 
most  secluded  valleys  of  '  Araby  the  Blest.'  We  know  the 
spot ;  but  for  worlds  we  would  not  be  wicked  enough  to  deliver 
them  over  in  their  merry  ignorance  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
the  commentators.  Were  we  to  let  fall  the  slightest  hint  of 
the  position  of  their  melodious  home,  we  are  well  aware  that 
Mr.  Hunter  or  Mr.  Rodd,  or  both  those  gentlemen  together, 
would  start  off  to  Rotherhithe  to-morrow  morning,  would  hire 
a  steamer  and  go  paddling  away  in  a  cloud  of  thick  black 
smoke  in  pursuit  of  them  ;  and  having  reached  the  spot,  they 
would,  without  the  least  sense  of  compunction,  gather  the 
sweetest  blossoms  that  Ariel  ever  sucked  his  honey  from,  and 
crush  them  between  the  leaves  of  their  hortus  siccus  ;  they 
would  hunt  down  the  innocent  spirits  themselves  ;  they  would 
scare  them  with  unearthly  sounds  ;  they  would  catch  them 
with  bird-limed  twigs  and  butterfly  nets,  run  pins  through 
their  delicate  bodies,  fix  them  to  the  bottoms  of  glazed  boxes, 
and  bear  them  away  in  triumph  to  be  deposited  as  curiosities 
among  the  natural  history  shelves  of  the  British  Museum." 

Macready  lost,  as  he  said,  ,£2,000  a  year,  owing  to  an  article 
written  by  Mr.  Harness  in  the  "  Quarterly."  So  much  weight 
had  his  critiques  with  the  public  of  the  day. 

THE  KEMBLES  IN  AMERICA. 

The  following  letters  are  interesting  as  giving  an  account  of 
the  Kembles'  visit  to  America  :  — 

To  the  Rev.  William  Harness. 

"BOSTON,  Sunday,  May  ft  A,  1833. 

"  Do  not  imagine  that  I  have  any  intention  of  letting  you 
forget  me,  my  dear  Mr.  Harness,  or  that  I  mean  to  delegate 
to  newspapers,  and  such  like  unsatisfactory  channels  of  in- 
formation, the  task  of  keeping  my  recollection  alive  with  you. 
I  certainly  have  suffered  a  tolerably  long  interval  to  escape 
since  the  writing  of  my  first  epistle  ;  but  that  it  did  not  follow 


22O  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

from  thence  that  I  never  meant  to  write  to  you  again,  this  is 
proof.  If  I  were  to  ask  you  all  the  questions  I  should  like 
answered  with  regard  to  things  in  general,  and  particularly  in 
my  poor  dear  little  country,  I  might  fill  my  letter  with  one 
huge  note  of  interrogation,  and  leave  you  to  answer  all  that  is 
'  being,  doing,  and  suffering '  in  England  ;  but  I  rather  think 
some  account  of  ourselves  might  be  more  satisfactory  to  you  ; 
and  so,  according  to  your  noble  and  poetical  friend,  '  Here 
goes  ! '  (By  the  bye,  his  Life  by  Moore  is  a  terrible  pity  ;  why 
could  n't  his  works  be  left  to  speak  for  him  ?  They  are  his  best 
record  after  all.) 

"  We  are  all  in  excellent  health,  except  that  my  father  is 

lame  and  cross,  D sleepy  and  cross,  and  I  purely  cross, 

and  nothing  else.  With  regard  to  my  father's  lameness,  he 
caught  it  —  or,  rather,  it  caught  him  —  by  the  calf  of  the  leg, 
in  the  act  of  springing  off  the  stage  after  me,  in  Benedick. 
'T  is  an  accident  of  no  great  importance  —  a  sprain  or  fracture 
of  one  or  two  of  the  smaller  fibres  in  the  leg,  which  makes 
him  go  a  little  haltingly  just  now,  but  is  not  likely  to  incon- 
venience him  long.  As  for  all  the  other  ailments,  that  is  the 
crossness,  't  is  owing  to  a  bitter  bleak  east  wind,  which  is  the 
only  air  that  blows  in  Boston,  and  keeps  us  all  in  a  state  of 
misanthropy  and  universal  dissatisfaction.  Perhaps,  under 
these  circumstances,  I  had  better  have  deferred  writing  to 
you  ;  but,  had  I  waited  till  the  wind  changed  its  quarter,  I 
must  have  waited  till  we  returned  to  New  York  ;  for  Boston  is 
the  abiding  place  of  the  east  wind. 

"  Our  houses,  wherever  we  go,  are  very  fine  ;  our  business 
most  successful.  The  people  and  places  vie  with  each  other 
in  kindness  and  civility  to  us  ;  and  as  for  me,  I  am  so  praised, 
so  admired,  so  courted,  and  so  flattered,  that  I  am  thrown  into 
the  depths  of  humility,  sometimes,  when  I  come  to  consider 
my  own  unworthiness ;  and  only  fear  that  at  last  I  shall  ac- 
quire such  an  idea  of  my  own  excellence,  importance,  and  ad- 
mirableness  that  I  shall  come  to  the  conviction  that  '  the  world 
is  mine  oyster.'  Seriously,  I  am  sometimes  perplexed  at  the 
universal  kindness  and  almost  affection  that  is  expressed  to- 


THE  KEMBLES  IN  AMERICA.  221 

wards  me,  when  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  indeed  I  have  done 
nothing  really  to  deserve  it.  However,  thank  God  for  it !  And 
as  for  the  desert,  why  perhaps  it  is  with  me  as  with  the  man 
who  said  he  did  not  know  whether  he  could  play  on  the  fiddle 
or  not,  for  he  'd  never  tried. 

"  Boston  is  a  Yankee  town,  which  I  dare  say  is  as  much  as 
you  know  about  it ;  but.  sir,  'tis  moreover  the  wealthiest  town 
in  the  Union  ;  't  is,  sir,  the  most  belles-letterish  and  blue  town 
in  the  Union  ;  't  is,  sir,  the  most  aristocratic  town  in  the 
Union,  and  decidedly  bears  the  greatest  resemblance  to  an 
English  town  of  any  I  have  seen.  The  country  round  it,  too, 
is  more  like  a  bit  of  the  old  land  than  anything  I  have  yet 
seen  ;  and,  though  some  of  the  wild  romantic  scenery  round 
Philadelphia  enchanted  me  very  much,  the  white  clean  cot- 
tages, the  blossoming  apple-trees  and  flowering  garden-plots 
of  the  villages  round  this  place  have  recalled  England  more 
vividly,  and  given  me  more  pleasure  than  anything  I  have  yet 
seen.  The  society  is  a  little  stiff  ;  they  have,  unfortunately, 
a  reputation  in  this  good  town  for  superior  intellect,  and  are 
proportionately  starched  and  stupid.  However,  to  have  known 
Webster,  and  even  Audubon,  is  in  itself  something ;  and 
though  Channing  has  been  obliged  by  ill-health  to  leave  Bos- 
ton for  the  South,  I  trust  yet  to  have  the  privilege  of  knowing 
him  —  who,  I  think,  reflects  more  honor  on  his  native  city 
than  all  its  other  superiorities  put  together. 

"  We  act  every  night  here  but  Saturday.  I  grumble  dread- 
fully at  this  hard  work  —  not  because  it  tires  me,  but  because 
I  am  idle  and  like  two  holidays  in  a  week.  However,  when  I 
consider  that  every  night  lost  is  a  large  sum  of  money  lost  (for 
our  profits  are  very  great)  I  am  willing  to  give  up  my  laziness, 
so  long  as  the  work  is  not  too  much  either  for  my  father  or 
myself.  I  take  an  amazing  quantity  of  exercise  on  horse- 
back ;  't  is  meat  and  drink  and  sleep  to  me,  and  affords  me, 
moreover,  the  best  opportunity  of  seeing  the  country,  which 
one  never  does  well  in  a  carriage  ;  and  't  is  quite  entertaining 
to  see  how,  before  I  have  been  a  fortnight  in  a  place,  all  the 
women  are  getting  into  riding-skirts  and  up  upon  horses.  I 


222  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

have  received  ever  so  many  thanks  for  the  improved  health  of 
the  ladies  here  who,  since  my  arrival,  are  all  horseback- mad  ; 
and  I  truly  think  a  good  shaking  does  a  woman  good  in  every 
way. 

"  I  have  acted  several  new  parts  since  I  have  been  in  this 
new  world  ;  Katherine,  the  Shrew,  which  I  do  pretty  well, 
Bizarre,  which  I  also  do  pretty  well,  but  particularly  the 
dancing  —  Violante  in  '  The  Wonder,'  which  I  do  worse  than 
anything  that  can  be  seen,  and  Mary  Copp  in  '  Charles  the 
Second,'  which  I  do  very  fairly  well,  leaving  out  the  singing. 
Bianca  seems  to  be  my  favorite  part  with  the  public,  in 
tragedy,  and  Julia  in  the  '  Hunchback,'  in  comedy.  I  hear 
Knowles  has  written  another  play  with  a  magnificent  woman's 
part.  Of  course  we  shall  have  it  out  here  before  long ;  I  am 
curious  to  see  it. 

"  I  have  seen  Washington  Irving  several  times  since  1  have 
been  in  this  country.  He  is  idolized  here,  and  talks  of  settling 
himself  in  some  little  sunny  nook  on  the  Hudson  —  that 
broadest,  brightest  river  in  the  world.  He  is  very  delightful, 
a  most  happy,  cheerful,  benevolent,  simple  person.  His  ab- 
sence of  seventeen  years  from  this  country  has  produced 
changes  in  it  which  seem  to  fill  him  with  amazement  and  ad- 
miration. And,  indeed,  't  is  a  most  marvelous  country  !  It 
stands  unparalleled  under  every  aspect  in  which  it  can  be  con- 
sidered, and  presents  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  extraor- 
dinary subjects  of  contemplation  that  the  eye  of  a  politician, 
or  the  more  extensive  gaze  of  a  philosopher,  can  scan.  A 
land  peopled,  as  this  has  been,  by  the  overflowings  of  all  othei 
lands  ;  to  the  south  colonized  by  the  adventurous  but  thrifty 
younger  branches  of  noble  families  of  England,  and  in  great 
measure  also  by  men  whose  vices  and  crimes,  as  well  as  their 
utter  poverty,  drove  them  to  find  shelter  away  from  the  society 
whose  laws  they  had  outraged ;  to  the  north,  again,  this  new 
world  owing  its  first  civilized  inhabitants  to  the  purest  and 
loftiest  spirit  of  Freedom  —  the  holiest  and  most  steadfast 
spirit  of  Religion  (emanating  from  England,  too)  ;  and  all 
having  received  their  first  dawn  of  civilization  from  bodies  of 


THE  KEMBLES  IN  AMERICA.  22$ 

men  differing  from  each  other  in  object,  in  religious  faith,  in 
country  and  lineage  :  a  whole  continent  thus  strangely  re- 
claimed from  utter  savageness,  and  in  the  process  of  a  century 
and  a  half  becoming,  from  a  desolate  and  utter  wilderness,  a 
great  political  existence,  taking  a  firm  and  honorable  station 
among  the  powers  of  the  world.  A  land  abounding  in  cultiva- 
tion, civilization,  populous  towns,  full  of  wealth,  of  business, 
of  trade,  of  importance  ;  vast  ports  receiving  the  flags  of 
every  nation  under  Heaven ;  to  see  huge  ocean  steamboats 
carrying  hundreds  of  people  to  and  fro  every  hour  along  the 
Hudson,  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  Mississippi,  whose  waters,  a 
hundred  years  ago,  were  never  visited  but  by  the  Indian 
canoe  ;  to  see  forests  felled,  and  towns  arising,  railways  and 
canals  traversing  and  connecting  what  were  wild  tracts  of  in- 
terminable wood  and  waste  ;  to  see  life,  and  all  its  wonderful 
arts  and  sciences,  reclaiming  these  vast  solitudes  to  the  uses 
of  man  and  the  purposes  of  civilized  existence  :  this  mighty 
operation  which  is  at  this  instant  going  on  under  our  very  eyes 
makes  this  country  one  of  great  interest,  of  admiration,  of 
anxious  observation  to  all  the  world.  'T  is  a  marvelous 
country  indeed  ! 

"  Bless  my  soul,  I  did  n't  mean  to  be  cross  *  to  you,  because 
that 's  an  infliction  !  Don't  you  wish  that  you  and  I  wrote  bet- 
ter hands  ?  Pray,  dear  Mr.  Harness,  if  you  have  time  to  spare, 
write  to  me  again  ;  it  pleases  me  to  hear  from  England,  and  it 
pleases  me  to  hear  from  you. 

"  For  I  am  very  truly,  and  with  great  regard, 
"  Yours, 

"  FANNY  KEMBLE." 

To  the  Rev.  IV.  Harness. 

"  NBW  YORK,  iifh  April,  1834. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND, 

"  When  I  left  England  I  promised  I  would  write  to  you,  and 
I  am  ashamed  that  I  have  so  long  neglected  to  redeem  my 
promise  ;  but  I  rely  upon  your  good-nature  to  excuse  me,  al- 

1  The  last  page  of  the  letter  is  crossed. 


224  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

though  I  confess  I  hardly  deserve  forgiveness.  Fanny,  I 
know,  has  already  told  you  all  that  we  have  seen  and  done  ;  so 
that  you  have  not  been  left  in  ignorance  of  our  proceedings  by 
my  sin  of  omission.  Pray,  which  are  considered  more  deadly 
by  divines,  sins  of  omission,  or  sins  of  commission  ?  You 
will  not  have  time  to  answer  me  on  this  point  before  we  meet ; 
therefore,  I  must  seek  for  information  from  my  friends  of  the 
cloth  in  this  hemisphere  —  Dr.  Wainwright  or  Dr.  Channing  : 
both  learned  men  and  pious  Christians.  Wainwright,  with 
whom  I  am  better  acquainted  than  I  am  with  Channing,  seems 
to  me  more  of  a  man  of  the  world  ;  he  mixes  with  general 
society,  and  is  a  well-bred,  liberal  clergyman,  an  Episcopalian, 
and  likely  to  become  the  next  Bishop  of  Boston.  Channing, 
you  know,  is  a  Unitarian,  a  mild,  engaging  person  in  discourse, 
an  eloquent  and  impressive  preacher  in  the  pulpit.  Wain- 
wright is  a  good  preacher,  too ;  he  has  much  more  physical 
power  than  Channing,  but  in  my  opinion  is  far  his  inferior  in 
point  of  intellect. 

"  So  much  for  the  leaders  in  your  profession.  For  those  in 
mine,  you  are  almost  as  well  acquainted  with  their  merits  as  I 
am.  Mr.  Booth,  as  well  as  Mr.  Hamblin,  you  must  have  seen 
in  England  ;  and  Mr.  Forrest  you  will  probably  see,  for  report 
says  he  is  to  visit  London.  He  is  in  person  of  Herculean  pro- 
portions, fitter,  in  appearance,  for  a  drayman  or  a  porter  than 
an  actor.  I  have  seen  him  but  in  two  parts,  Pierre,  which  he 
acted  indifferently  well;  the  other,  Oroloosa.  an  Indian;  in 
the  representation  of  which  characters  he  has  acquired  his 
reputation.  There  was  an  American  of  the  name  of  Scott, 
whom  I  preferred,  in  the  same  tragedy  ;  but  he  is  thought  by 
his  countrymen  very  inferior  to  Forrest.  There  are  two  favor- 
ite actresses,  too,  not  very  distinguished  for  talent.  Miss 
Vincent  and  Miss  Clifton  :  the  latter  is  a  very  tall  but  beau- 
tiful girl. 

"  We  hope  to  find  you  and  your  dear  sister  at  home  when  we 
reach  London.  We  did  intend  to  sail  from  New  York  on  the 
1 6th  of  June,  but  for  the  advantages  of  a  superior  ship  and  a 
more  agreeable  captain,  we  have  been  induced  to  postpone 


THE   KEANS.  22$ 

our  departure  until  the  24th  of  June  :  so  pray  look  out  for  the 
arrival  of  the  United  States,  commanded  by  Captain  Hold- 
ritch.  How  happy  Fanny's  friends  will  be  to  see  her  once 
more  before  she  is  married,  won't  they  ?  The  legitimate 
drama  will  have  another  chance,  I  hope,  of  resuscitation  ;  and 
we  shall  both  at  least  take  leave  of  the  British  stage  in  a  man- 
ner worthy  of  the  house  of  Kemble  ! 

"  God  bless  you  !  give  my  affectionate  regard  to  your  dear 
sister  ;  and  believe  me,  my  very  dear  friend,  unalterably  yours, 

"  C.  KEMBLE. 

"  Fanny  has  told  you  of  the  irreparable  loss  we  have  sus- 
tained by  the  death  of  her  aunt.  May  all  our  deaths  be  as 
peaceful  and  as  happy  !  " 

THE  KEANS. 

Mr.  Harness  took  little  interest  in  the  drama  of  the  present 
day.  Low  comedy  and  scenic  effects  were  his  aversion  ;  and 
he  was  wont  to  say  that  acting  was  now  a  debased  art.  He 
still  knew  a  few  of  the  elder  members  of  the  histrionic  pro- 
fession, and  especially  Charles  Kean,  for  whom  he  had  a 
great  personal  regard.  He  remarked  how  much  he  had  done  to 
raise  the  social  character  of  the  stage,  and  was  deeply  affected 
when  he  was  sent  for  to  attend  his  friend  in  his  last  hours.  He 
had  an  equal  esteem  for  Mrs.  Kean.  Referring  to  her  kindness 
and  good-nature,  he  said  that  she  took  great  interest  in  the  lit- 
tle children  who  came  to  act  in  the  pantomimes,  and  that  she 
used  to  teach  them  their  Catechism  between  the  pieces,  thus 
endeavoring  to  compensate  for  their  loss  of  regular  instruction. 
Mr.*  Harness's  schools,  like  many  others  in  London,  suffered 
much  from  the  withdrawal  of  little  pupils  in  the  winter.  On 
first  entering  his  school  at  Knightsbridge,  after  the  Christmas 
holidays,  he  inquired  why  the  attendance  was  so  small  ?  u  Be- 
cause, sir,"  replied  the  teacher,  "  so  many  of  the  children  are 
gone  to  be  angels  !  " 
'5 


226  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

"  MEMORIALS  OF  CATHERINE  FANSHAVVE." 
One  of  the  undertakings  of-  Mr.  Harness's  later  years  was 
the  preparation,  for  private  circulation,  of  the  "  Memorials  of 
Miss  Catherine  Fanshawe."  This  lady  had  been  one  of  his 
most  intimate  friends,  and  had  even  proposed  to  make  him 
her  heir,  but  he  refused  the  offer,  averring  that  he  could  not 
endure  the  thought  that  he  should  in  any  way  benefit  by  her 
death.  He  was  often  wont  to  say  that  he  could  not  under- 
stand the  desire  which  some  persons  evinced  to  obtain  lega- 
cies ;  for,  as  he  well  observed,  it  was  impossible  to  receive 
one  without  incurring  the  loss  of  a  friend  more  valuable  than 
any  money  thus  acquired.  Miss  Fanshawe  accordingly  only 
made  him  the  bequest  of  her  etchings  and  manuscripts,  which 
he  gladly  accepted.  From  these  Mr.  Harness  compiled  a 
small  volume  of  "  Memorials,"  to  rescue  her  memory  from 
the  oblivion  which  threatened  it.  Those  who  have  only  heard 
of  her  in  connection  with  the  riddle  on  the  letter  H,  have 
little  idea  of  the  range  of  her  endowments  or  the  elegance  of 
her  taste.  Mr.  Harness  speaks  with  affectionate  remem- 
brance of  "  her  varied  accomplishments,  her  acute  perception 
of  the  beautiful,  her  playful  fancy,  her  charming  conversation, 
her  gentle  and  retiring  manners,  her  lively  sympathy  with  the 
sorrows  and  the  joys  of  others,  and,  above  all,  her  simple 
piety  ;  "  and  he  observes  that  she  was  a  cherished  member  of 
that  society,  not  very  extended,  but  intimately  united  by  a 
common  love  of  literature,  art,  and  science,  which  existed  in 
London  at  the  close  of  the  last  and  the  opening  of  the  present 
centuries,  and  which,  perhaps,  "  taken  for  all  in  all,  has  never 
been  surpassed." 

Miss  Fanshawe's  poems  and  sketches  evince  a  considerable 
appreciation  of  humor.  One  of  the  latter,  representing  an 
evening  party  some  eighty  years  since,  with  two  politicians 
gesticulating  before  the  fire-place,  surrounded  by  a  languid 
knot  of  fops  and  dandies,  while  the  ladies  are  left  to  them- 
selves, dozing  and  yawning  behind  their  fans  at  the  other  end 
of  the  room,  might,  but  for  the  quaintness  of  costume,  remind 


"MEMORIALS  OF  CATHERINE  FANSIIAWE." 

us  of  many  similar  festivities  at  the  present  day.  But  Miss 
Fanshawe's  great  success  lay  in  her  delineation  of  children,  of 
whose  varying  moods  and  expressions  of  countenance  she 
seems  to  have  possessed  an  admirable  perception.  Many 
charming  groups  of  them  are  here  photographed  from  her 
sketches. 

The  celebrated  riddle  by  which  Miss  Fanshawe  is  best 
known  arose,  Mr.  Harness  said,  from  an  accidental  conver- 
sation at  the  Deep  Dene.  Mr.  Hope  was  at  the  time  enter- 
taining with  his  usual  liberality  a  number  of  eminent  and 
literary  friends,  and  in  the  course  of  the  evening  some  re- 
marks turned  the  conversation  upon  the  letter  H,  and  the 
unworthy  treatment  it  received  in  the  centre  of  metropolitan 
civilization.  The  party  retired  soon  afterwards,  but  the  sub- 
ject of  discussion  had  touched  Miss  Fanshawe's  ingenious 
fancy,  and  while  others  slept  her  mind  was  busily  employed. 
Next  morning  at  breakfast  she  brought  down  the  poem  and 
read  it  to  the  delighted  and  astonished  guests  :  — 

"  'T was  whispered J  in  heaven,  't  was  muttered  in  hell, 
And  echo  caught  faintly  the  sound  as  it  fell ; 
On  the  confines  of  earth  't  was  permitted  to  rest, 
And  the  depihs  of  the  ocean  its  presence  confessed. 
T  will  be  found  in  the  sphere  when  't  is  riven  asunder, 
Be  seen  in  the  lightning,  and  heard  in  the  thunder. 
'T  was  allotted  to  man  with  his  earliest  breath, 
Attends  at  his  birth,  and  awaits  him  in  death ; 
Presides  o'er  his  happiness,  honor  and  health  ; 
Is  the  prop  of  his  house  and  the  end  of  his  wealth. 
In  the  heaps  of  the  miser  'tis  hoarded  with  care, 
But  is  sure  to  be  lost  on  his  prodigal  heir. 
It  begins  every  hope,  every  wish  it  must  bound, 
With  the  husbandman  toils,  with  the  monarch  is  crowned. 
Without  it  the  soldier,  the  seaman  may  roam, 
But  woe  to  the  wretch  that  expels  it  from  home  I 
In  the  whispers  of  conscience  its  voice  will  be  found, 
Nor  e'en  in  the  whirlpool  of  passion  Le  drowned. 
'T  will  not  soften  the  heart ;  but,  though  deaf  be  the  ear, 
It  will  make  it  acutely  and  instantly  hear. 
Yet  in  shade  let  it  rest,  like  a  delicate  flower  ; 
Ah !  breathe  on  it  softly  —  it  dies  in  an  hour." 

1   Mr   Harness  said  that  the  original  commenced:  — 

"  'T  was  in  heaven  pronounced." 


228  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

Those  lines  thus  first  introduced  were  soon  well-known  and 
admired  throughout  the  country,  and  from  their  style  and 
curious  felicity  were  attributed  to  Byron,  the  popular  poet  of 
the  age.  They  afterwards  crept  into  some  foreign  editions  of 
his  works,  and  are  even  at  the  present  day  often  ascribed  to 
him. 

One  of  the  odes  in  this  volume  records  the  lecture  deliv- 
ered by  Sydney  Smith  on  "  The  Sublime,"  and  the  gay 
dresses  and  toilettes  of  his  fair  audience.  There  is  much 
wit  and  elegance  in  the  poem,  which  is  after  the  manner  of 
Gray ;  but  it  was  only  suggested  by  Miss  Fanshawe,  and 
written  by  Miss  Berry.  (Mr.  Harness  often  met  this  lady  in 
society  ;  she  received  the  sobriquet  of  Black-berry  from  her 
dark  eyes,  and  to  distinguish  her  from  her  sister,  who  received 
the  uncomplimentary  title  of  Goose-berry). 

The  following  specimen  of  Miss  Fanshawe's  humorous  tal- 
ent was  much  admired  by  one  of  the  late  Prime  Ministers  :  — 

SPEECH   OF  THE   MEMBER   FOR  OLDHAM. 

"  Mr.  Cobbett  asked  leave  to  bring  in  very  soon 
A  Bill  to  abolish  the  sun  and  the  moon. 
The  Honorable  Member  proceeded  to  state 
Some  arguments  used  in  a  former  debate. 
The  heavenly  bodies,  like  those  upon  earth, 
Had,  he  said,  been  corrupt  from  the  day  of  their  birth ; 
With  reckless  profusion  expending  the  light. 
One  after  another,  by  day  and  by  night. 
And  what  classes  enjoyed  it  ?    The  upper  alone. 
Upon  such  they  had  always  exclusively  shone  : 
But  when  had  they  ever  emitted  a  spark 
For  the  people  who  toil  underground,  in  the  dark  — 
The  people  of  England,  the  miners  and  borers, 
Of  earth's  hidden  treasures  the  skillful  explorers? 
But  their  minds  were  enlightening  ;  they  learn  every  hour 
That  discussion  is  knowledge,  and  knowledge  is  power. 
Long  humbled  and  crushed,  like  a  gi.tnt  they  rise, 
And  sweep  off  the  cobwebs  that  darken  the  skies  ; 
To  sunshine  and  moonshine  their  duties  assign, 
And  claim  equal  rights  for  the  mountain  and  mine. 

Turn  to  other  departments.     High  time  to  inquire 
What  abuses  exist  in  air,  water,  and  fire- 
Why  keep  up  volcanoes?  that  idle  display  I 
That  pageant  w.w  all  very  well  in  iu  day ; 


"MEMORIALS  OF  CATHERINE  FANSHAWE."    229 

But  the  reign  of  utility  now  has  commenced, 

And  wisdom  with  such  exhibitions  dispensed. 

When  so  many  were  starving  with  cold,  it  was  cruel 

To  nuke  such  a  waste  of  good  fire  and  fuel. 

As  for  Nature,  how  little  experience  had  taught  her 

Appeared  in  the  administration  of  water. 

Was  so  noble  a  capital  duly  employed  ? 

Or  was  it  by  few  (if  by  any)  enjoyed  ? 

Poured  on  marshes  and  fens  which  were  better  without, 

While  pasture  and  arable  perished  for  drought ; 

When  flagrant  injustice  so  often  occurs 

Abler  hands  must  be  wanted  and  younger  than  hers  ; 

Not  to  speak  of  old  Ocean's  insatiable  needs, 

Or  of  seas  so  ill-ploughed  they  bear  nothing  but  weeds. 

At  some  future  day  he  perhaps  should  be  able 
To  lay  the  details  of  their  cost  on  the  table. 
At  present,  no  longer  the  House  to  detain, 
He  'd  confine  his  remarks  to  the  subject  of  rain. 
Was  it  wanted?     A  more  economical  plan, 
More  equably  working,  more  useful  to  man, 
In  this  age  of  improvement  might  surely  be  found, 
By  which  all  would  be  sprinkled,  and  none  would  be  drowned. 
He  would  boldly  appeal  to  the  nation's  good  sense, 
Not  to  sanction  this  useless,  enormous  expense. 
If  the  wind  did  but  shift,  if  a  cloud  did  but  lower, 
What  millions  of  rain-drops  were  spent  in  a  shower? 
Let  them  burst  through  the  shackles  of  wind  and  of  weather, 
Do  away  with  the  office  of  rain  altogether ; 
Let  the  whole  be  remodeled  on  principles  new, 
And  consolidate  half  the  old  funds  into  dew. 


He  hoped  that  the  House  a  few  minutes  would  spare 
While  he  offered  some  brief  observations  on  air. 
Not  the  sun  nor  the  moon,  nor  earth,  water,  or  fire, 
Nor  Tories  themselves  when  with  Whigs  they  conspire, 
Were  half  so  unjust,  so  despotic,  so  blind, 
So  deaf  to  the  cries  and  the  claims  of  mankind, 
As  air  and  his  wicked  prime  minister,  wind. 
Goes  forth  the  despoiler,  consuming  the  rations 
Designed  for  the  lungs  of  unborn  generations! 
What  a  waste  of  the  elements  made  in  a  storm ! 
And  all  this  comes  on  in  the  teeth  of  Reform ! 
Hail,  lightning,  and  thunder,  in  volleys  and  peals! 
The  tropics  are  trembling,  the  universe  reels  ; 
Come  whirlwind  and  hurricane,  tempest,  tornadoes, 
Woe!  woe!  to  Antigua,  Jamaica,  Barbadoes ! 
Plantations  uprooted,  and  sugar  dissolved  ; 
Kum,  coffee,  and  spice  in  ruin  involved  ; 


230  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

And  while  the  Caribbees  were  ruined  and  rifled, 

Not  a  breeze  reached  Guiana,  and  England  was  stifled ! 

Rate  all  that  exists  at  its  practical  worth  — 
T  was  a  system  of  humbug  from  heaven  lo  earth ! 
These  abuses  must  cease  —  they  had  lasted  too  long ; 
Was  there  anything  right  ?    Was  not  everything  wrong  ? 
The  crown  was  too  costly,  the  Church  was  a  curse  ; 
Old  Parliaments  bad,  Reformed  Parliaments  worse  ; 
All  revenues  ill-managed,  all  wants  ill-provided  ; 
Equality,  liberty,  justice  derided ! 
But  the  people  of  England  no  more  would  endure 
Any  remedy  short  of  a  Radical  cure. 
Instructed,  united,  a  nation  of  Sages 
Would  look  with  contempt  on  the  wisdom  of  ages  ; 
Provide  for  the  world  a  more  just  legislature, 
And  impose  an  agrarian  law  upon  Nature." 

MASTERS  AND  SERVANTS. 

Mr.  Harness  had  a  great  affection  for  tried  and  faithful 
servants  ;  so  much  so  that  he  erected  a  stained  glass  window 
in  his  church  to  the  memory  of  his  aged  nurse.  He  loved  to 
recall  the  times  when  servants  and  masters  lived  together  as 
members  of  the  same  family,  with  mutual  respect  and  com- 
mon interests  ;  and  in  a  passage  in  which  he  deplores  the 
change  which  has  now  taken  place,  he  sketches  a  pleasing 
picture  of  their  former  confidential  relations  :  "  Worldly  cir- 
cumstances used  not  to  sever  classes.  A  little  more  than 
fifty  years  ago,  when  Crabbe  the  poet  resided  for  some  time 
in  the  house  of  Mr.  Tovell,  a  gentleman  of  considerable  landed 
property  in  Suffolk,  he  found  the  drawing  and  dining  rooms 
only  opened  on  state  occasions,  and  the  family  generally  living 
with  the  domestics  in  the  old-fashioned  kitchen  ;  where,  while 
the  master  of  the  house  read  his  book  or  his  newspaper  by  the 
capacious  fireside,  the  lady  sat  at  a  little  round  table  super- 
intending the  work,  and  working  with  the  maids.  In  this 
manner  kindly  feelings  were  naturally  produced  ;  civilization 
was  diffused  by  intercourse  ;  and  the  science  of  house  manage- 
ment acquired  by  the  servant  at  the  hall  was  carried  with  her 
on  her  marriage  to  make  the  comfort  of  her  husband's  cottage. 
In  houses  of  a  higher  rank,  there  were  always  some  domestics 
who  had  lived  long  enough  in  the  family  to  be  considered  as 


MASTERS  AND  SERVANTS.  23! 

a  part  of  it  ;  who  held  a  confidential  place  in  the  regard  of  the 
lord  or  lady  ;  and  who  formed  £  connecting  link  between  them 
and  the  menials  —  every  one  of  whom,  perhaps,  was  born  on 
the  estate  ;  while  a  knowledge  of  the  merits  or  demerits,  the 
weal  or  woe,  of  all  was  maintained  by  the  superintendence  of 
that  most  important  but  now  obsolete  member  of  every  large 
establishment,  the  chaplain.  .  This  tie  of  friendly  care  on  the 
one  hand,  and  of  attached  dependence  on  the  other,  has  been 
gradually  loosened.  Instead  of  it,  there  has  grown  up,  be- 
tween master  and  servant,  a  cold,  unsympathizing,  incom- 
municable distance  —  an  obstinate,  impenetrable  reserve  — 
which  exists  in  no  other  country,  which  every  really  Christian 
heart  feels  it  painful  to  keep  up,  and  which  no  one  of  ordinary 
good-nature  could  think  of  maintaining  towards  a  dog  or  a  cat 
that  he  happened  to  come  as  frequently  in  contact  with.  By 
such  a  state  of  things  both  parties  are  losers  ;  the  master  and 
the  mistress,  perhaps,  the  most.  It  may  be  taken  as  a  rule 
without  exception  that  the  members  of  a  family  cannot  live 
long  in  a  state  of  indifference  towards  each  other.  If  they 
are  not  united  by  feelings  of  regard,  they  will  be  severed  by 
feelings  of  enmity.  If  the  master  takes  no  care  to  attach  his 
domestics  by  words  and  acts  of  kindness,  they  very  soon  begin 
to  look  upon  him  with  an  evil  eye,  to  lose  all  concern  for  his 
interests  ;  and  if  they  abstain  from  defrauding  him  themselves, 
they  rejoice  in  the  success  of  the  cheat  by  which  he  is  de- 
frauded. It  is  only  latterly  that  all  the  links  of  good  feeling 
between  the  higher  and  lower  members  of  the  same  household 
have  been  broken  asunder.  They  used  to  be  bound  together 
by  a  joint  interest  in  the  younger  branches  of  the  family. 
Some  years  ago,  there  still  remained  the  old  footman,  or  the 
gray-headed  groom,  or  the  trusty  nurse-maid  to  whom  the 
children  could  be  safely  given  in  charge  —  who  loved  the 
children,  and  were  loved  by  them  in  turn.  But  now,  these 
are  exploded.  What  is  wanted  is  the  restoration  of  an  hum- 
bler, kindlier,  freer  manner  of  intercourse  between  manufact- 
urers and  their  men,  farmers  and  their  laborers,  masters  of 
families  and  their  domestic  servants.  I  hardly  know  a  more 


232  WILLIAM  HARNESS 

disgusting  piece  of  hypocrisy  than  that  which  I  see  at  the  pres- 
ent day  so  constantly  exhibited,  when  some  arrogant  woman 
of  fashion,  who  treats  her  country  neighbor  with  supercilious 
incivility,  her  less  exclusive  relatives  with  the  coldest  in- 
difference, and  her  domestics  with  a  most  withering  stiffness, 
passes  by  all  the  legitimate  objects  of  her  kindness,  and  goes 
out  of  her  way  to  lavish  her  factitious  sympathy  and  capricious 
interest  on  the  unknown  inmates  of  some  garret  or  cellar  of  a 
London  alley." 

STATE  OF  THE  ENGLISH  BIBLE. 

On  some  Church  questions  Mr.  Harness  was  in  advance 
of  his  age  —  especially  with  regard  to  the  revision  of  the 
Bible.  Writing  in  the  "  Edinburgh  Review  "  he  notices  "  the 
mischief  that  has  been  inflicted  on  the  sense  of  the  in- 
spired writings  by  the  mode  of  breaking  them  up  into  chapter 
and  verse  ; "  and,  speaking  further  of  the  translation,  he  ob- 
serves that  the  phrase  of  the  Hebrew  language  is  retained  to 
a  most  confusing  extent.  He  cites  such  instances  as  the 
following,  "  the  covenant  of  salt,"  meaning  "  a  friendly  con- 
tract." •"  They  are  crushed  in  the  gate,"  for  "  they  are  found 
guilty  in  a  court  of  justice."  "  The  color  of  the  lips,"  for 
"  praises  and  thanksgivings,"  "  I  have  given  you  cleanness  of 
teeth,"  meaning  "  extreme  scarcity."  "  Such  are,"  he  observes, 
the  sort  of  Hebraisms  of  which  Selden  says,  "  what  gear  do 
the  common  people  make  of  them  ?  "  He  also  objects  to  the 
combination  of  all  the  books  of  Scripture  into  one  volume, 
rendering  it  either  small  in  type  or  inconvenient  in  size.  "  If 
a  man  would  fain  take  his  evening  walk  into  the  fields,  with 
the  Prophecies  of  Isaiah  as  his  companion,  it  is  no  lij^ht 
grievance  to  him  that  he  must  either  forego  his  inclination,  or 
carry  along  with  him  at  the  same  time  the  Law  of  Moses  ami 
the  History  of  the  Jews,  the  Psalms  of  David  and  the  Prov- 
erbs of  Solomon." 

EUWARD  IRVING. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  circumstances  connected  with 
Mr.  Harness's  cure  in  St.  Pancras  was,  that  he  was  brought 


EDWARD  IRVING.  233 

into  close  proximity  with  the  celebrated  Edward  Irving,  who 
was  then  attracting  many  followers.  The  Scotch  church  was 
on  the  opposite  side  of  Regent  Square,  and  the  performances 
which  took  place  in  it  were  so  distasteful  to  Mr.  Harness,  and 
led  astray  so  many  weak  brethren,  that  —  although  with  great 
reluctance,  for  he  disliked  polemical  discussions  —  he  preached 
a  sermon  (afterwards  published)  in  which  he  pointed  out  the 
utter  groundlessness  of  Mr.  Irving's  pretensions. 

He  showed  how  different  were  the  unintelligible  rhapsodies 
of  the  Irvingites  from  that  divine  gift  of  foreign  languages 
which  was  so  necessary  for  gospel  missionaries  in  the  early 
centuries.  "  There  is  nothing,"  he  observes,  "  so  frugal  as 
Providence.  What  !  persons  inspired  to  speak  languages  un- 
known to  others  and  unintelligible  to  themselves !  As  a 
blessing,  a  gift,  a  grace,  an  illumination  from  the  Almighty  to 
his  saints,  there'  is  nothing  parallel  to  this  to  be  met  with  in 
the  whole  range  of  the  Scriptures  ;  and,  as  a  punishment,  a 
blindness,  and  a  curse  upon  his  enemies,  it  surpasses  even 
the  malediction  against  the  people  of  Babel."  In  a  letter  to  a 
friend,  in  which  he  reiterates  his  commendation  of  the  sober, 
steady  teaching  of  the  Church  of  England,  Mr.  Harness  ob- 
serves, "  Edward  Irving  told  me  several  times  that  he  could 
not  understand  why  he  met  with  no  such  true  Christians  as  in 
the  orthodox  Church  of  England.  He  used  the  word  '  ortho- 
dox '  in  the  sense  of  anti-Calvinistic.  And  even  when  we 
were  standing  talking  in  Regent  Square,  on  one  side  of  which 
his  church  stood,  and  mine  on  the  other,  he  said,  pointing  first 
to  his  own,  and  then  to  mine,  '  I  don't  know  how  it  is  I  have 
no  such  humble,  quiet  Christians  here  as  you  contrive  to  as- 
semble about  you  there ! '  That  cannot  be  a  bad  system 
which  works  such  effects." 

•The  influence  which  Mr.  Irving  exerted,  not  only  over  a 
large  section  of  the  laity,  but  also  over  some  of  the  clergy,  is 
thus  casually  alluded  to  in  a  postscript  to  a  letter  from  Dr. 
Milman  to  Mr.  Harness  :  "  Can  you  send  me  a  good,  steady 
humble-minded  curate  ?  I  have  just  parted  with  one  after 
three  months,  who  will  be  a  follower  of  Irving  in  three  more 


234  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

—  the  acting  of  the  Strand  Theatre  with  the  reasoning  facul- 
ties of  St.  Luke's  ;  (Tailleurs,  a  good  kind  of  young  man." 

HARNESS'S  EARLY  REMINISCENCES. 

Mr.  Harness's  recollections  formed  an  interesting  link  be- 
tween several  generations  of  literary  men.  As  a  child  he  had 
known  Joseph  Warton,  whose  brother,  the  celebrated  poet, 
had  been  acquainted  with  Pope  ;  who,  in  turn,  could  remem- 
ber to  have  seen  Racine  walking  in  his  red  stockings  in  Paris. 
Sir  George  Beaumont  told  him  that  when  at  Rome  he  had 
spoken  to  the  donkey-man  who  had  accompanied  Claude  and 
Caspar  Poussin  on  their  sketching  excursion  to  Tivoli.  In 
his  youth  he  remembered  Dr.  Parr  —  his  snappish  wit,  and 
the  long  pipe  he  smoked  after  dinner  ;  the  latter  causing  him 
especial  astonishment,  as  smoking  was  then  rare  and  un- 
fashionable. 

PALEY. 

He  might  also  have  known  Paley,  but  his  information  about 
him  was  probably  derived  from  some  of  the  tutors  at  Christ's 
College,  to  which  the  great  apologist  had  himself  belonged. 
Mr.  Harness  had  several  little  anecdotes  illustrative  of  Paley's 
homely  manners  and  rough  humor.  At  the  first  visitation  he 
attended,  after  his  preferment  to  the  archdeaconry,  he  dined 
in  company  with  a  large  assemblage  of  clegymen,  all  of  whom 
were  eager  to  hear  his  observations.  He  remained  silent,  to 
their  great  disappointment,  until  the  second  course  was 
served.  At  length  the  great  man  spoke ;  every  ear  was 
strained.  What  was  his  oracular  utterance  ?  "I  don't  think 
these  puddens  are  much  good  unless  the  seeds  are  taken  out 
of  the  raisins  ! "  At  another  banquet,  shortly  after  his  pre- 
ferment, he  found  himself  exposed  to  an  unpleasant  draft 
of  air.  "Shut  that  window  behind  me,"  he  called  out  to  one 
of  the  waiters,  "and  open  one  lower  down,  behind  one  of 
the  curates  ! " 

CRABBE. 

Later  than  these  was  Crabbe,  the  poet,  who  after  publishing 
"  The  Library,"  "  The  Village,"  and  other  poems,  disappeared 


HARNESS  AND  SCOTT.  235 

from  public  sight  in  a  country  living  for  two-and-twenty  years, 
and  was  generally  supposed  to  be  dead,  until  he  revived  again 
in  the  "  Register "  in  1807,  and  reentered  London  literary 
circles  in  1813.  Mr.  Harness  greatly  admired  his  poems  : 
perhaps  he  appreciated  them  the  more  because  they  referred 
so  much  to  country  parish  life.  He  particularly  noticed  the 
beauty  of  a  little  story  in  the  "  Tales,"  where  an  heiress  is 
prevented  by  a  rich  aunt  from  marrying  a  man  of  inferior  posi- 
tion. She  by  degrees  forgets  him,  and  becomes  entirely 
engrossed  with  the  accumulation  of  money.  Her  lover,  on 
the  other  hand,  becomes  poorer,  and  is  at  last  an  inmate  of 
an  almshouse.  He  reminds  her  of  her  promise,  which  she 
disowns. 

"  He  shares  a  parish-gift ;  at  church  he  sees 
The  pious  Dinah  dropped  upon  her  knees ; 
Thence,  as  she  walks  the  streets  with  stately  air, 
As  chance  directs,  oft  meet  the  parted  pair ; 
When  he,  with  thickest  coat  of  badgeman's  blue, 
Moves  near  her  shaded  silk  of  changeful  hue  ; 
When  his  thin  locks  of  gray  approach  her  braid, 
A  costly  purchase  made  in  beauty's  aid ; 
When  his  frank  air,  and  his  unstudied  pace, 
Are  seen  with  her  soft  manner,  air,  and  grace, 
It  might  some  wonder  in  a  stranger  move, 
How  these  together  could  have  talked  of  love." 

Crabbe  visited  Edinburgh  in  1822,  when  the  festivities  in 
honor  of  the  arrival  of  George  the  Fourth  drew  together  such 
a  brilliant  assemblage  of  rank  and  talent.  Scott  was  too  much 
engaged  to  do  the  honors  for  all  his  distinguished  friends, 
and  assigned  some  of  them  to  Lockhart,  who,  to  afford  mutual 
gratification,  introduced  Crabbe  to  Brewster.  Next  day,  to 
his  consternation,  Crabbe  observed,  "  That  Dr.  Brewster 
seems  an  agreeable  man  —  what  is  he  ?  "  and  Brewster,  on 
meeting  Lockhart,  inquired,  "  By  the  way,  who  was  that  old 
clergyman  you  brought  to  see  me  ?  Did  you  say  his  name 
was  Crabbe  ?  " 

HARNESS  AND  SCOTT. 

In  the  opening  article  of  the  "  Quarterly,"  for  January, 
1868,  a  review  appeared  of  the  "  Life  of  Scott,"  written  by 


236  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

Dean  Milman,  and  towards  the  end  of  it  was  the  following 
reference  :  "  Proofs  of  the  veneration  in  which  all  classes 
held  him  greeted  Scott  wherever  he  went.  Twice  on  the  oc- 
casion of  the  coronation  of  George  the  Fourth  this  was 
shown  in  a  remarkable  way.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Harness,  the  ac- 
complished friend  of  Mrs.  Siddons  and  Lord  Byron,  describes 
that,  while  he  was  standing  in  Westminster  Hall,  a  spectator 
of  the  coronation  feast,  he  observed  Sir  Walter  trying,  but 
in  vain,  to  make  his  way  through  a  crowd  to  a  seat  which  had 
been  reserved  for  him.  '  There  's  Sir  Walter  Scott,'  said  Mr. 
Harness  ;  '  let 's  make  way  for  him.'  There  was  no  need  for 
more  ;  the  throng  pressed  itself  back  so  as  to  make  a  lane  for 
Scott,  and  he  passed  through  without  the  slightest  inconven- 
ience." Milman  was  writing  from  memory,  and  Mr.  Harness 
told  me  that  the  facts  were  not  quite  accurately  given  in  this 
account.  Scott  had  been  in  Lord  Willoughby's  box,  but  had 
left  it,  and  on  returning  found  it  full  of  ladies.  He  was  ac- 
cordingly left  without  a  seat,  and  while  looking  hopelessly 
about  was  seen  by  Harness  from  the  balcony,  who  immedi- 
ately beckoned  to  him  ;  and  all  the  people,  when  they  heard 
who  he  was,  compressed  themselves  to  make  room  for  him. 
He  said,  however,  that  they  were  very  anxious  to  know 
whether  he  was  quite  sure  that  he  was  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

Few  persons  who  heard  him  speak  could  have  doubted 
Scott's  nationality ;  it  could  not  have  been  said  with  justice 
that  Scott  — 

"  Hung 
On  the  soft  phrase  of  Southern  tongue.'' 

His  accent,  on  the  contrary,  was  so  broad  that  Mr.  Harness 
said  he  sometimes  could  not  understand  him  without  difficulty. 
One  day  when  they  had  been  talking  of  "  Lucia  di  Lammer- 
muir,"  which  had  lately  appeared,  he  changed  the  subject  by 
ohsrrving,  "Weel!  I  think  we've  a'most  had  enow  of  that 
chiel."  Literature,  according  to  Scott's  account,  was  much 
better  paid  then  than  it  is  at  present  ;  for  on  a  friend  asking 
him  to  subscribe  to  assist  a  poor  author,  he  refused  to  comply, 
asserting  that  he  knew  no  one  worthy  of  the  name  —  except 


COLERIDGE.  237 

Coleridge — who  was  not   making  from  ^500   to  ^12,000  a 
year. 

COLERIDGE. 

Mr.  Harness  used  occasionally  to  visit  Coleridge  when  the 
latter  was  staying  with  Mr.  Gillman,  the  apothecary-doctor,  at 
Highgate.  The  poet  originally  went  there  to  recover  his 
health,  which  he  had  broken  down  by  over-indulgence  in 
opium.  He  placed  himself  there  under  a  sort  of  voluntary  re- 
straint, and  strict  orders  were  given  by  Mr.  Gillman  that  no 
drugs  of  any  kind  were  to  be  allowed  him.  Coleridge,  miss- 
ing the  stimulant  to  which  he  had  been  long  accustomed, 
pined  and  languished  under  the  restriction  ;  he  abandoned  his 
pen  and  sank  into  utter  despondency.  One  day  a  large  roll  of 
papers  came  to  the  poet  from  the  publisher,  and  on  Mr.  Gill- 
man's  visiting  him  in  the  evening  he  found  him  an  altered 
man  ;  Coleridge  was  himself  again,  full  of  animation  and 
energy,  and  busily  employed  in  writing  an  article  for  the 
forthcoming  "  Review."  The  change  was  so  sudden  and  re- 
markable that  the  doctor's  suspicions  were  aroused.  He  in- 
stituted inquiries  and  found  that  a  roll  of  opium  had,  at  the 
poet's  entreaty,  been  inclosed  in  the  packet  which  had  arrived 
that  morning  from  the  publisher. 

Eminent  literary  men  have  often  been  remarkable  for  the 
fertility  of  their  conversation,  and  their  powers  in  this  respect 
have  not  unfrequently  been  used  without  due  restraint  and 
discrimination.  Coleridge  was  no  exception  to  this  rule  ;  he 
would  continue  to  talk  on  in  an  unbroken  flow,  and  connect 
his  arguments  and  observations  so  adroitly  that  until  you  had 
left  him  you  could  not  detect  their  fallacy.1  Mr.  Harness 
called  on  him  one  day  with  Milman,  on  their  return  from  pay- 
ing a  visit  to  Joanna  Baillie.  The  poet  seemed  unusually  in- 
spired, and  rambled  on,  raising  his  hands  and  his  head  in  the 
manner  which  Charles  Mathews  so  cleverly  caricatured  ;  and 

1  Wordsworth  and  Rogers  called  on  him  one  forenoon  in  Pall  Mall.  He  talked 
uninterruptedly  for  two  hours,  during  which  time  Wordsworth  listened  with  profound 
attention.  On  leaving,  Rogers  said  to  Wordsworth,  "  Well!  I  could  not  make  head 
or  tail  of  Coleridge's  oration  :  did  you  understand  it?"  "  Not  a  syllable,''  replied 
Wordsworth.  Sometimes,  however,  his  conversation  was  admirable. 


238  WILLIAM  HARXKSS. 

asserting,  among  other  strange  theories,  that  Shakespeare  was 
a  man  of  too  pure  a  mind  to  be  able  to  depict  a  really  worth- 
less character.  "  All  his  villains,"  he  said,  "  were  bad  upon 
good  principles  ;  even  Caliban  had  something  good  in  him." 
Coleridge,  in  his  old  age,  became  a  characteristic  feature  in 
Highgate.  He  was  the  terror  and  amusement  of  all  the  little 
children  who  bowled  their  hoops  along  the  poplar  avenue. 
Notwithstanding  his  fondness  for  them  —  he  called  them 
'  Kingdom-of-Heaven-ites  '  —  his  Cyclopean  figure  and  learned 
language  caused  them  indescribable  alarm.  Sometimes  he 
would  lay  his  hand  on  the  shoulders  of  one  of  them  and  walk 
along  discoursing  metaphysics  to  the  trembling  captive,  while 
the  rest  fled  for  refuge  and  peeped  out  with  laughing  faces 
from  behind  the  trees.  "  I  never,"  he  exclaimed  one  day  to 
the  baker's  boy  —  "  I  never  knew  a  man  good  because  he  was 
religious,  but  1  have  known  one  religious  because  he  was 
good." 

LAMB. 

We  can  scarcely  mention  Cojeridge  without  being  reminded 
of  his  friend  and  school-fellow,  Charles  Lamb.  On  reading 
the  life  of  this  author,  lately  published  by  Barry  Cornwall,  Mr. 
Harness  observed  that  it  must  surprise  every  one  how  such  a 
clever  man  as  Lamb  could  have  said  so  few  good  things.  He 
was  chief  jester  to  the  "  Morning  Post,"  and,  though  it  by  no 
means  follows,  he  was  a  man  of  undoubted  wit.  Mr.  Har- 
ness remembered  many  bright  bits  of  fun  which  from  time  to 
time  sparkled  in  his  conversation.  On  one  occasion,  an  old 
lady  was  pouring  into  his  ear  a  tirade,  more  remarkable  for 
length  than  substance,  when,  observing  that  the  essayist  was 
fast  lasping  into  a  state  of  oblivion,  she  aroused  him  by  re- 
marking in  a  loud  voice,  "  I  'm  afraid,  Mr.  Lamb,  you  are 
deriving  no  benefit  from  my  observations  !  "  "  Well,  Madam  !  " 
he  replied,  recollecting  himself,  "  I  cannot  say  that  I  am  ;  but 
perhaps  the  lady  on  the  other  side  of  me  is,  for  they  go  in  at 
one  ear  and  out  of  the  other." 

Elliston,  the  actor,  a  self-educated  man,  was  playing  cribbage 
one  evening  with  Lamb,  and  on  drawing  out  his  first  card, 


ROGKKS.  239 

exclaimed,  "  When  Greek  meets  Greek,  then  comes  the  tug  of 
war."  "  Yes,"  replied  Lamb,  "  and  when  you  meet  Greek  you 
don't  understand  it." 

SHERIDAN. 

Among  the  distinguished  persons  with  whom  Mr.  Harness 
was  acquainted,  he  not  unfrequently  met  the  celebrated  Sheri- 
dan. He  was  present  at  some  of  the  sumptuous  entertainments 
with  which  the  dramatist  regaled  his  friends,  and  remarked 
that,  although  his  guests  denounced  his  extravagance,  they 
never  refused  his  invitations.  Sheridan  was  not  devoid  of  that 
vanity  which  so  often  accompanies  talent.  On  one  occasion, 
at  a  Theatrical  Fund  Dinner,  he  made  a  very  high-flown 
speech  in  which  he  spoke  of  himself  as  being  "descended  from 
the  loins  of  kings  !  "  "  That  is  quite  true,"  said  Dr.  Spry,  who 
was  sitting  next  to  Harness  ;  "the  last  time  I  saw  his  father,1 
he  was  the  King  of  Denmark." 

Sheridan's  solictor  found  his  client's  wife  one  day  walking 
up  and  down  her  drawing-room,  apparently  in  a  frantic  state 
of  mind.  He  inquired  the  cause  of  such  violent  perturbation. 
She  only  replied  "  that  her  husband  was  a  villain."  On  the 
man  of  business  further  interrogating  her  as  to  what  had  so 
suddenly  awakened  her  to  a  sense  of  that  fact,  she  at  length* 
answered,  with  some  hesitation.  "  Why,  I  have  discovered 
that  all  the  love-letters  he  sent  me  were  the  very  same  as  those 
which  he  sent  to  his  first  wife  !  " 

ROGERS. 

The  poet  Rogers  was  a  more  intimate  friend.  He  was  one 
of  those  few  instances  in  which  talent  is  found  united  with 
wealth  and  energetic  labor.  In  his  literary  work  he  was  most 
persevering  ;  so  much  so  that  he  spent  no  less  than  seventeen 
years  in  writing  and  revising  "  The  Pleasures  of  Memory." 
The  hasty  slip-shod  style  of  the  present  day  was  not  to  his 
taste.  Rogers,  like  Byron  and  his  compeers,  aimed  at  produc- 
ing finished  pieces  ;  and  though  they  sometimes  thus  confined 
their  eagle-flight,  they  at  least  avoided  an  ignominious  fall  to  the 

1  He  was  an  actor. 


240  WILLIAM  HARXESS. 

ground.  But  Rogers  was  not  only  a  wealthy  banker  and  rural 
poet ;  he  had  also  a  keen  sense  of  humor,  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  deadness  of  his  countenance  and  the  dryness  of 
his  manner  which  seemed  to  give  additional  point  to  his  sar- 
casms. Mr.  Harness  said  that  many  of  his  most  telling  hits 
seemed  to  have  little  force,  when  related  under  different  cii»- 
cumstances.  Some,  however,  the  reader  will,  as  I  imagine,  be 
able  to  understand  without  any  oral  interpretation.  Rogers's 
dwelling  was  "a  cabinet  of  Art,"  and  he  kept  a  model  bach- 
elor's household  ;  his  servants  consisting  of  three  men  and  one 
woman.  When  one  of  the  former  who  had  been  a  long  time  in 
his  service,  died,  a  kind-hearted  friend  called  to  condole  with 
him  on  the  loss  he  had  sustained.  "  Well  !  "  exclaimed  Rogers 
after  listening  for  some  time  to  his  expressions  of  sympathy, 
"  I  don't  know  that  I  feel  his  loss  so  very  much,  after  all. 
For  the  first  seven  years  he  was  an  obliging  servant ;  for  the 
second  seven  years  an  agreeable  companion  ;  but  for  the  last 
seven  he  was  a  tyrannical  master."  * 

Speaking  of  France  brought  him  to  the  following  story,  to 
which  he  gave  considerable  effect :  "  An  Englishman  and  a 
Frenchman  had  to  fight  a  duel.  That  they  might  have  the 
better  chance  of  missing  one  another,  they  were  to  fight  in  a 
dark  room.  The  Englishman  fired  up  the  chimney,  and,  by 
Jove !  he  brought  down  the  Frenchman  !  When  I  tell  this 
story  in  Paris,"  observed  Rogers,  "  I  put  the  Englishman  up 
the  chimney ! " 

Mr.  Harness  had  many  other  little  interesting  scraps  about 
Rogers.  The  poet  greatly  disliked  writing  letters  of  condo- 
lence, and  when  he  had  that  melancholy  duty  to  perform,  he 
generally  copied  one  of  Cowper's.  Lord  Landsdowne  once 
spoke  to  him  in  congratulatory  terms  about  the  marriage  of  a 
common  friend.  "  I  do  not  think  it  so  desirable,"  observed 
Rogers.  "  No  !  "  replied  Lord  Landsdowne,  "  why  not  ?  His 
friends  approve  of  it !  "  "  Happy  man  !  "  returned  Rogers, 

1  The  poet  teems  to  have  been  soincwh.it  unfortunate  in  his  servants.  On  one 
occasion  mhen  in  the  country,  his  favorite  groom,  with  whom  he  used  to  drive  every 
d*y,  gave  notice  to  leave.  Rogers  asked  him  why  he  was  going  and  what  he  had  to 
complain  of*  "  Nothing,"  replied  the  man  :  "but  you  art  to  dull  in  the  buggy-'1 


THEODORE  HOOK.  24! 

"  to  satisfy  all  the  world.     His  friends  are  pleased,  and  his 
enemies  are  delighted  !  " 

Moore  was  a  friend  of  Rogers,  and  also  of  Mr.  Harness  ; 
but  I  seldom  heard  the  latter  speak  of  him,  except  with  refer- 
ence to  Byron,  and  to  his  having  asked  for  information  and 
letters  which  might  be  of  use  in  the  "  Life  "  he  was  compiling. 
Speaking  of  Moore's  taste  for  biography,  and  the  number  of 
Memoirs  he  had  composed,  Rogers  one  day  cynically  observed, 
"  Why,  it  is  not  safe  to  die  while  Moore  's  alive  !  " 

WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

Among  the  American  friends  of  this  literary  coterie,  Wash- 
ington Irving  may  be  mentioned,  though  he  was  scarcely  to  be 
called  an  American,  inasmuch  as  his  father  was  an  English- 
man, and  his  mother  a  Scotchwoman.  He  was  often  in  this 
country,  as  his  brother  was  a  merchant  in  Liverpool ;  and 
when  he  visited  London,  he  usually  breakfasted  with  Mr.  Har- 
ness, and  dined  with  Rogers.  Alluding  to  the  vanity  and  self- 
appreciation  of  young  America,  not  unnatural  in  a  rising  na- 
tion, Mr.  Harness  told  me  that  a  friend  of  his  spoke  in  the 
following  manner  of  a  play  he  had  lately  written  :  "  I  wrote  a 
tragedy  last  winter  —  and  a  very  good  one  it  was  ;  and  my 
father  said  he  wished  to  read  it,  and  I  allowed  him  ;  and  he 
said  it  was  a  very  good  one.  And  he  said  he  should  like 
to  go  over  it  with  me,  word  for  word,  and  line  for  line  ;  and 
we  went  over  it  word  for  word  and  line  for  line  ;  and  he  said 
he  should  like  to  show  it  to  Washington  Irving,  and  so  he 
did  ;  and  he  thought  it  was  very  good,  and  he  said  he  should 
like  to  go  over  it  with  me  word  for  word  and  line  for  line. 
And  so  we  did,  and  it  was  beautiful  to  observe  the  difference 
between  that  old  man  and  me  !  " 

THEODORE  HOOK. 

At    Mrs.   Siddons's  receptions,    Mr.    Harness   became   ac- 
quainted with  Theodore  Hook,  who  was  then  in  general  re- 
quest in  fashionable  and  literary  society.     He  was  an  accom- 
plished musician,  and  almost  as  remarkable  for  his  improvisa- 
16 


242  U'H.LIAM  HARNESS. 

tore  talent  as  for  his  brilliance  in  repartee.  Wherever  he 
happened  to  be  present,  he  was  looked  upon  as  the  wag  of 
the  party,  and  his  love  of  merriment  sometimes  caused  him  to 
indulge  in  pleasantries  which,  though  sufficiently  harmless  in 
themselves,  verged  too  closely  upon  the  limits  of  propriety. 
One  evening,  Mr.  Harness,  who  shared  the  prejudices  then 
entertained  about  waltzing,  observed  to  Theodore  that  he  was 
glad  to  hear  that  he  disapproved  of  the  new  dance.  "Well,  I 
don't  know  about  that,"  returned  his  friend,  "  't  is  a  mere  mat- 
ter of  feeling." 

When  Theodore  was  travelling  along  the  south  coast,  he  ar- 
rived in  the  course  of  his  journey  at  Dover,  and  alighting  at 
the  Ship  Hotel,  changed  his  boots,  ordered  a  slight  dinner, 
and  went  out  for  a  stroll  through  the  town.  Returning  at  the 
appointed  time,  he  was  surprised  to  find  the  whole  establish- 
ment in  confusion.  A  crowd  had  collected  outside  the  door  — 
the  master  of  the  house  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
with  two  candles  in  his  hands,  and  on  Theodore's  entrance, 
he  walked  backwards  before  him,  and  conducted  him  into  the 
principal  saloon,  where  all  the  waiters  were  standing,  and  a 
magnificent  repast  had  been  provided.  The  wit  was  much 
amused  at  the  dignity  to  which  he  had  been  promoted  ;  but, 
being  an  easy-going  fellow,  made  no  scruples,  and  sitting 
down,  did  full  justice  to  what  was  set  before  him.  Next  day 
he  signified  his  intention  of  departing,  and  ordered  a  coach  ; 
when,  to  his  astonishment,  a  carriage-and-four  drove  up  to 
convey  him  to  his  destination.  He  inquired,  with  some  ap- 
prehension, what  he  was  to  pay  for  all  this  grandeur,  and  was 
no  less  astonished  than  gratified  on  receiving  the  answer, 
"  Nothing  whatever,  your  Royal  Highness."  He  was  never 
more  thoroughly  mystified  ;  but  the  next  night,  on  taking  off 
his  boots,  which  he  had  bought  ready-made  just  before  he 
went  to  Dover,  he  found  "  H.  S.  H.  the  Prince  of  Orange," 
written  inside  them.  They  had  been  originally  made  for  the 
Prince,  who  was  then  in  England,  suing  for  the  hand  of 
Princess  Charlotte,  and  notice  had  been  given  that  all  hi>  ex- 
penses while  in  the  country  should  be  set  down  to  the  charge 
of  the  government. 


HENRY  HOPE.  243 

LYDIA  WHITE. 

Among  those  most  celebrated  for  their  hospitalities  during 
Mr.  Harness's  earlier  residence  in  London,  was  Miss  Lydia 
White.  She  kept  a  "  menagerie,"  and  was  herself  not  the  least 
remarkable  specimen  it  contained.  Brave  in  paint  and  plaster 
—  a  wonderful  work  of  art  —  she  underwent  all  the  labor  nec- 
essary to  produce  the  grand  effect,  not  from  any  vanity  or  af- 
fectation, but  from  motives  of  pure  benevolence.  "Were  I," 
she  observed,  "  to  present  myself,  as  I  naturally  am,  without 
any  of  these  artificial  adornments,  instead  of  being  a  source 
of  pleasure,  and  perhaps  amusement,  to  my  friends,  I  should 
plunge  them  into  the  profoundest  melancholy."  This  con- 
siderate lady  was  not  only  fond  of  clever  conversation,  but 
sometimes  herself  joined  in  the  tournament  of  wit.  Mr.  Har- 
ness remembered  many  sallies  of  playful  nonsense  which  he 
had  heard  from  her  ;  one  of  those  he  preserved  was  the  fol- 
lowing :  On  the  return  of  Charles  X.  to  Paris,  Talma  was  en- 
gaged to  play  "  Sylla  ;  "  but  he  looked  so  much  like  Napoleon, 
that  he  was  ordered  to  put  on  a  curly  wig.  "  Why,"  said 
Lydia,  "  were  he  to  do  that,  we  should  hardly  know  Scylla 
from  Charybdis." 

On  another  occasion,  at  one  of  her  small  and  most  agree- 
able dinners  in  Park  Street,  the  company  (most  of  them,  ex- 
cept the  hostess,  being  Whigs)  were  discussing,  in  rather  a 
querulous  strain,  the  desperate  prospects  of  their  party. 
"Yes,"  said  Sydney  Smith,  "we  are  in  a  deplorable  condi- 
tion ;  we  must  do  something  to  help  ourselves  ;  I  think  we 
had  better  sacrifice  a  Tory  Virgin."  This  was  partially  ad- 
dressed to  Lydia  White,  who  at  once  catching  and  applying 
the  allusion  to  Iphigenia,  answered,  "Well,  I  believe  there  is 
nothing  the  Whigs  would  not  do  to  raise  the  wind !  " 

HENRY  HOPE. 

Among  Mr.  Harness's  more  intimate  friends,  the  name  of 
Henry  Hope  should  not  be  omitted.  This  celebrated  million- 
aire, the  author  of  "  Anastasius,"  and  the  unfortunate  hero  in 


244  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

the  picture  of  "Beauty  and  the  Beast,"  was  unremitting  in 
his  kindness  and  hospitality  towards  the  young  clergyman. 
He  frequently  invited  him  to  stay  at  the  Deep  Dene,  and  here 
Mr.  Harness  found  himself  surrounded  by  all  the  talent  and 
wealth  cf  England.  The  tone  of  the  conversation  sometimes 
amused  him  much  ;  as  when  Rothschild  observed  to  Hope 
that  a  man  must  be  "  a  poor  scoundrel  who  could  not  afford 
to  lose  two  millions  ; "  or  replied  to  a  nobleman  who  said  he 
must  be  a  supremely  happy  man,  "  I  happy  !  when  only  this 
morning  I  received  a  letter  from  a  man  to  say  that,  if  I  did  not 
send  him  .£500,  he  would  blow  out  my  brains  !  "  *  Mr.  Hope 
had  a  tutor  for  his  sons  at  the  Deep  Dene.  One  day,  when 
Mr.  Harness  was  staying  there,  he  found  this  gentleman  pac- 
ing up  and  down  the  room  in  the  most  distressing  agitation  of 
mind.  "  Is  there  anything  the  matter  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Har- 
ness, anxiously.  "  The  matter  !  "  he  replied,  "  I  should  think 
there  was  !  Three  of  the  worst  things  that  can  possibly  hap- 
pen to  a  man  :  I  'm  in  love  —  I  'm  in  debt  — and  I  've  doubts 
about  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  !  " 

Mr.  Hope  died  in  1831.  The  night  after  his  death  Mr.  Har- 
ness dreamed  that  he  saw  Lord  Beresford's  country  residence 
in  an  unusual  state  of  commotion.  He  woke  up  with  the  im- 
pression that  some  death  or  other  great  calamity  had  happened 
there :  and  though  he  afterwards  thought  lightly  of  the  matter, 
he  determined,  as  he  was  going  in  that  direction,  to  call  at 
Lord  Beresford's  in  Duchess  Street,  on  his  way  home.  On 
arriving  there,  he  found  the  blinds  down,  and  the  house  shut 
up ;  and  upon  inquiring,  the  gate-porter  told  him  that  Mr. 
Thomas  Hope  had  died  the  day  before  at  Bedgebury  Park. 
Mr.  Harness  had  not  known  that  his  friend  was  either  ill  or  in 
England.  Mr.  Hope  left  Mr.  Harness  his  literary  executor. 

1  The  demands  made  upon  the  great  are  certainly  most  extraordinary.  I  remem- 
ber the  late  Archbishop  Sunnier  telling  me  that  a  man  wrote  to  him  to  send  him  im- 
mediately £yx>,  as  it  would  save  him  from  "  some  unpleasant  complications."  It 
was  to  be  directed  to  X.  Y.  Z  ,  Post  Office,  Bristol. 


SERJEANT  TALFOURD.  24$ 

SERJEANT  TALFOURD. 

It  was  through  Miss  Mitford's  introduction  that  Mr.  Har- 
ness became  acquainted  with  Serjeant  Talfourd.  He  had 
been  a  Reading  boy  —  a  pupil  of  Dr.  Valpy's  —  and  the 
authoress  felt  an  admiration  for  his  talents  even  greater  than 
that  she  entertained  for  everything  else  of  worth  which  ema- 
nated from  her  "  Belford  Regis."  He  was  one  of  those  many 
protegh  for  whom  she  predicted  a  successful  career  ;  and  when, 
in  after-years,  her  prophecy  had  proved  true,  she  often  stayed 
on  a  visit  at  his  house  in  London.  One  of  these  occasions 
was  shortly  after  the  production  and  favorable  reception  of  the 
Serjeant's  well-known  play  of  "  Ion."  Miss  Mitford  was  also 
herself  at  the  zenith  of  her  fame.  "  Rienzi  "  had  run  for  fifty 
nights  at  Drury  Lane  ;  and  the  attention  she  received,  and  the 
crowds  of  visitors  she  attracted,  kindled  a  flame  of  jealousy  in 
the  breast  of  the  rival  author.  Some  complaints  of  his  unrea- 
sonable conduct  towards  her  may  be  found  in  her  letters  at 
this  period.  It  was,  perhaps,  natural  that  a  man  who  had 
just  written  a  successful  play  should  feel  a  little  proud  of  his 
bantling ;  but  the  serjeant  seems,  in  this  respect,  to  have  alto- 
gether exceeded  the  bounds  of  moderation.  One  morning  at 
breakfast,  during  Miss  Mitford's  visit,  he  opened  a  newspaper 
and  came  upon  a  review  depreciating  his  beloved  play.  This 
brought  matters  to  a  crisis.  He  loudly  inveighed  against  the 
injustice  of  the  critic  ;  and  on  Miss  Mitford's  endeavoring 
to  pacify  him,  by  remarking  that  it  was  really  not  so  severe, 
and  that  she  should  not  have  felt  so  much  had  the  strictures 
been  made  on  her  "  Rienzi,"  "  Your  *  Rienzi,'  indeed  ! "  re- 
plied the  serjeant  contemptuously  ;  "  I  dare  say  not  !  That 
is  very  different !  "  I  have  even  heard  it  stated  that  the  dis- 
sension on  this  subject  became  so  unpleasant  that  Miss  Mit- 
ford packed  up  her  boxes  one  morning  and  drove  away  to  Mr. 
Harness's.  The  serjeant  may,  perhaps,  be  pardoned,  for  his 
affection  for  "  Ion "  was  deep  and  constant.  On  one  occa- 
sion, when  Dickens  was  calling  on  Rogers  at  Broadstairs,  he 
observed,  "We  shall  have  Talfourd  here  to-night."  "Shall 


246  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

we?"  returned  the  poet  ;  "I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  it.  I  hope 
he  will  come  and  dine  ;  but  how  do  you  know  he  is  coming  ?" 
"  Because  '  Ion '  is  to  be  acted  at  Margate,  and  he  is  never 
absent  from  any  of  its  representations." 

There  was  as  much  careless  freedom  in  Talfourd's  house- 
hold as  in  that  of  most  men  of  genius.  Goldsmith  himself 
could  not  have  desired  a  more  entire  absence  of  conventional- 
ity. One  day,  when  Mr.  Harness  was  dining  at  their  house  in 
company  with  several  judges,  the  serjeant  and  Mrs.  Talfourd 
sat  throughout  dinner  each  with  a  cat  in  their  lap.  On  an- 
other occasion,  Mrs.  Talfourd  requested  him  to  carve  a  chicken 
which  was  placed  before  him.  He  essayed  to  comply,  but  on 
his  making  the  attempt  the  bird  spun  round  and  shot  off  the 
dish.  Mr.  Harness,  who  was  a  little  timid  in  society,  was 
much  perturbed  by  this  misadventure  ;  but  on  examining  the 
cause  of  it,  he  found  that  he  had  been  given  a  fork  with  only 
one  prong  !  "  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  cut  that  tart  before 
you,"  said  the  hostess  to  another  guest.  "  Certainly,  if  you 
desire  it,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but  perhaps  you  are  not  aware  that 
it  has  not  been  in  the  oven  ?  " 

A  DINNER  AT  THACKERAY'S. 

The  name  of  Dickens  brings  us  to  that  of  his  great  con- 
temporary, Thackeray  ;  with  regard  to  whom  Mr.  Harness 
appeared  to  entertain  some  prejudice.  He  thought  his  Bohe- 
mianism  and  the  general  tone  of  his  writings  exercised  an  in- 
jurious influence  on  the  rising  generation.  His  first  personal 
experience  of  the  novelist  was  certainly  not  calculated  to  re- 
move this  impression.  Thackeray  invited  him  to  dinner,  and 
Mr.  Harness  accepted  with  delight,  promising  himself  a  rich 
intellectual  feast  at  the  house  of  a  man  of  such  literary  rep- 
utation. He  was  gratified  in  one  respect,  for  when  he  arrived 
he  found  learning  and  talent  most  ably  represented.  The 
party  at  dinner  was  large,  and  while  the  ladies  remained  the 
conversation  wandered  softly  among  flowers  and  wine  and  airy 
compliments.  At  length  the  movement  came  —  the  flutter  of 
fans  and  silks  —  and  the  gay  corttge  of  youth  and  beauty  made 


DR.   MILMAN.  247 

its  way  to  the  upper  world.  The  light  element  had  now  passed 
away  ;  the  hour  had  arrived  ;  and  Mr.  Harness  looked  for- 
ward to  such  a  discussion  as  should  surpass  the  days  of  yore. 
Now  was  the  time  for  sharp  repartee  and  for  the  settling  of 
accounts  between  rival  wits  —  for  the  cut  and  thrust  and  skill- 
ful parry.  He  settled  himself  in  his  chair,  prepared  to  take 
his  part  if  necessary,  and  kept  his  eyes  and  ears  open,  so  a'- 
not  to  lose  a  single  word  or  gesture.  "  Do  you  smoke  ?  "  in- 
quired the  host.  "Smoke?"  Mr.  Harness  had  never  been 
guilty  of  such  an  offense  against  social  morality.  In  his  day, 
tars  and  bargemen  were  the  only  smokers — except  Dr.  Parr  — 
and  he  retained  all  the  old  prejudices  against  such  an  imitation 
of  chimney-pots.  He  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  going 
to  carouse  at  a  public-house  as  of  smoking  in  the  dining-room 
after  dinner.  "  Smoke,  sir  ?  I  do  not."  But  his  firm  refusal 
had  no  effect  whatever  on  the  epicurean  company  by  which  he 
was  surrounded.  Cigars  and  tobacco  were  placed  upon  the 
table  ;  punch  and  negus  followed  ;  and  the  observations 
which  were  made  during  the  rest  of  the  sitting  consisted  only 
of  such  instructive  remarks  as  "  Pass  the  box,"  and  "  Fill 
up!" 

DR.  MILMAN. 

Dr.  Milman,  who  was  for  a  long  period  Vicar  of  Reading, 
before  he  became  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  was  one  of  Mr.  Harness's 
and  Miss  Mitford's  earliest  friends.  Speaking  of  his  cele- 
brated poem,  Mr.  Harness  observed  that  one  day  he  found  Mr. 
Murray  in  an  unusual  state  of  disquietude  and  indignation. 
"Would  you  believe  it,"  demanded  the  publisher,  "Milman 
has  written  to  ask  me  for  an  additional  sum  for  the  second 
edition  of  the  '  Fall  of  Jerusalem  ?'  Why,  it  was  I  who  made 
that  poem."  "  You  ? "  repeated  Mr.  Harness  in  much  aston- 
ishment ;  for  although  Mr.  Murray  was  an  excellent  man  of 
business,  he  could  never  have  been  accused  of  being  in  the 
least  degree  poetical  —  "  you  made  the  '  Fall  of  Jerusalem  ? '  " 
"  Yes,"  maintained  the  publisher  stoutly.  "  I  should  like  to 
know  what  that  poem  would  have  been  if  I  had  not  brought  it 
out  in  an  octavo  form  ? "  Mr.  Murray  sent  the  MS.  of  "  Philip 


248  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

van  Artevelde  "  to  Milman  and  Harness  for  their  opinions  as 
to  its  prospects  of  success.  Both,  strange  to  say,  were  unfa- 
vorable to  it.  Mr.  Harness  said  he  never  knew  a  book  look  so 
different  in  print  from  what  it  did  in  manuscript.  There  was 
to  the  last  much  sympathy  and  intercourse  between  these 
Remarkable  brother  clergymen. 

A  PRISON  CHAPLAIN. 

On  our  conversation  turning  one  day  upon  the  fact  that  cler- 
gymen generally  were  destined  to  witness  but  small  results  from 
their  labors,  Mr.  Harness  remarked  that  allusion  had  been  made 
to  the  same  subject  previously  when  he  was  visiting  a  prison 
chaplain.  Mr.  Harness  asked  him  whether  his  ministry  had 
been  attended  with  success.  "  With  very  little,  I  grieve  to  say," 
was  the  reply.  "  A  short  time  since  I  thought  I  had  brought 
to  a  better  state  of  mind  a  man  who  had  attempted  to  murdera 
woman  and  had  been  condemned  to  death.  He  showed  great 
signs  of  contrition  after  the  sentence  was  passed  upon  him, 
and  I  thought  I  could  observe  the  dawnings  of  grace  upon  his 
soul.  I  gave  him  a  Bible,  and  he  was  most  assiduous  in  the 
study  of  it,  frequently  quoting  passages  from  it  which  he  said 
convinced  him  of  the  heinousness  of  his  offense.  The  man 
gave  altogether  such  a  promise  of  reformation,  and  of  a  change 
of  heart  and  life,  that  I  exerted  myself  to  the  utmost,  and  ob- 
tained for  him  such  a  commutation  of  his  sentence  as  would 
enable  him  soon  to  begin  the  world  again,  and  as  I  hoped  with 
a  happier  result.  I  called  to  inform  him  of  my  success.  His 
gratitude  knew  no  bounds  ;  he  said  I  was  his  preserver,  his 
deliverer.  '  And  here,'  he  added,  as  he  grasped  my  hand  in 
parting,  'here  is  your  Bible.  I  may  as  well  return  it  to  you, 
for  I  hope  that  I  shall  never  want  it  again.' " 

SOME  OF  HARNESS'S  ANECDOTES. 

A  country  rector,  coming  up  to  preach  at  Oxford  in  his 
turn,  complained  to  Dr.  Routh,  the  venerable  Principal  of 
Maudlin,  that  the  remuneration  was  very  inadequate,  consider- 
ing the  travelling  expenses,  and  the  labor  necessary  for  the 


SOME  OF  HARNESS'S   ANECDOTES.  249 

composition  of  the  discourse.  "  How  much  did  they  give 
you  ? "  inquired  Dr.  Routh.  "  Only  five  pounds,"  was  the 
reply.  "  Only  five  pounds  ? "  repeated  the  doctor.  "  Why,  I 
would  not  have  preached  that  sermon  for  fifty." 

At  a  dinner  party  a  somewhat  dull  couple,  who  affected 
literature,  informed  their  friend  that  they  were  going  to  visit 
the  city  of  Minerva.  Mr.  Harness,  who  happened  to  be  sit- 
ting next  to  the  humorous  Jekyll,  heard  him  mutter  to  himself, 
"  To  the  Greeks  —  foolishness." 

The  Bishop  of  Derry  was  disputing  with  a  Roman  Catholic 
priest  about  purgatory.  "  Well,  my  lord,"  replied  the  priest 
in  conclusion,  "  you  may  go  farther  and  fare  worse." 

Jones,  the  tailor,  was  asked  by  a  customer  who  thought 
much  of  his  cut,  to  go  down  and  have  some  shooting  with  him 
in  the  country.  Among  the  party  was  the  Duke  of  Northum- 
berland. "  Well,  Mr.  Jones,"  observed  his  Grace,  "  I  'm  glad 
to  see  that  you  are  becoming  a  sportsman.  What  sort  of  gun 
do  you  shoot  with  ?  "  "  Oh,  with  a  double-breasted  one,  your 
Grace,"  was  the  reply. 

Speaking  of  Brummell,  Mr.  Harness  remarked  that  many 
of  the  dandies  of  his  time  were  men  of  wit,  and  not  mere 
clothes-horses.  He  remembered  a  party  standing  to  admire 
a  sunset  where  the  orb  of  day  was  departing  in  a  golden  glory. 
"  Does  it  very  well,  does  n't  he  ?  "  observed  Brummell.  On 
another  occasion  Brummell  was  walking  with  a  friend  past 
the  newly  erected  bronze  statue  in  Hanover  Square.  "  Well," 
said  his  friend,  "  I  never  thought  Pitt  had  been  so  tall  a  man." 
"  Nor  so  green  a  one,"  added  Brummell.  Belvoir  Castle  was 
at  that  time  very  famous  for  its  hospitalities.  So  large  was 
the  number  of  invitations  that  people  used  to  come  and  go 
almost  without  the  knowledge  of  the  duke.  When  one  set 
had  left,  another  succeeded  as  a  matter  of  course,  without 
waiting  for  any  formal  invitation.  Brummell  was  among  those 
who  enjoyed  these  privileges.  On  one  occasion  a  friend  went 
down  to  Belvoir,  and  as  usual  applied  for  an  apartment. 
"  There  are  none  vacant,"  replied  the  housekeeper.  "  None 
vacant !  "  returned  the  dismayed  visitor  ;  "  how  can  that  be  ?  I 


250  WILLIAM  HARNESS. 

know  that  Mr.  Brummell  came  up  to  town  yesterday."     "Yes, 
sir,"  replied  the  lady,  "but  he  took  the  key  along  with  him." 

Having  consorted  with  so  many  of  the  most  brilliant  wits 
for  half  a  century,  Mr.  Harness  had  heard  so  many  racy -say- 
ings, that  it  was  difficult  to  produce  any  jeu  (Tesprit  which 
seemed  to  him  really  original.  On  one  occasion  (when  he  had 
been  dining  in  company  with  the  Bishop  of  Oxford  and  Mr. 
Gladstone)  I  inquired  how  he  enjoyed  his  privilege,  and  what 
was  the  character  of  the  intellectual  banquet  ?  "  Well,"  he 
replied,  "  after  dinner  the  gentlemen  began  to  relate  anec- 
dotes, and,  to  say  the  truth,  I  don't  think  I  ever  heard  so  many 
stale  '  Joe  Millers '  in  my  life." 


GEORGE    HODDER. 


GEORGE    HODDER. 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD. 

jjEIGH  HUNT,  in  his  memoir  of  Lord  Byron,  speaks 
of  the  first  time  he  ever  saw  the  poet ;  but  he  re- 
calls the  fact  in  a  manner  which  critics  have  not 
hesitated  to  condemn  as  at  variance  with  good  taste. 
I  hope,  therefore,  that  when  I  mention  the  circumstances  un- 
der which  I  first  saw  the  late  Douglas  Jerrold  I  shall  only  be 
recording  an  incident  which  the  great  wit  himself,  or  his 
biographer  and  son,  William  Blanchard  Jerrold,  would  hardly 
fail  to  smile  at  good-hum oredly. 

I  had,  a  few  months  previously,  become  the  intimate  asso- 
ciate of  Henry  Mayhew,  who  has  long  since  gained  for  him- 
self a  well-known  name  in  the  roll  of  literary  worthies,  and 
who  had  but  just  achieved  a  privilege  he  had  long  sought, 
namely,  that  of  being  admitted  to  the  friendship  of  Douglas 
Jerrold.  Henry  Mayhew  was  then  living  next  door  to  the 
Colosseum,  in  Albany  Street,  Regent's  Park,  and  was  con- 
stantly engaged  in  experiments  with  an  electric  battery,  which 
were  fraught  with  some  danger,  and  once  had  the  effect  of 
producing  an  explosion,  which  created  no  little  alarm  amongst 
the  neighbors.  In  order  to  be  well  protected  against  the  mis- 
chievous influence  of  the  chemicals  used  in  his  scientific  in- 
vestigations, he  was  accustomed  to  wear  an  entire  suit  of  some 
black  material,  highly  glazed  and  loosely  made.  On  one  occa- 
sion he  had  asked  me  to  come  to  his  house  to  see  some  of  his 


254  GEORGE  ff ODDER. 

experiments,  and  I  too  gladly  availed  myself  of  the  invitation, 
though  I  had  no  idea  at  the  time  that  I  (a  mere  stripling  under 
twenty  years  of  age)  should  then  have  the  gratification  of 
meeting  an  author  whose  writings  in  the  "  New  Monthly 
Magazine "  I  had  read  admiringly,  and  whose  plays  I  was 
bold  enough  to  think  (as,  indeed,  I  still  think)  were  among 
the  most  charming  productions  of  our  dramatic  literature.  To 
my  great  delight,  however,  I  had  not  been  in  the  room  many 
minutes  before  I  was  introduced  to  Douglas  Jerrold,  who  was 
flitting  about  with  that  peculiar  restlessness  of  eye,  speech, 
and  demeanor,  which  was  among  his  most  marked  character- 
istics. I  confess  I  was  not  surprised  to  find  him  a  man  of 
small  stature,  as  I  had  heard  before  that  his  proportions  were 
rather  those  of  Tydeus  than  of  Alcides  ;  but  I  was  a  little  as- 
tonished when  I  saw  in  the  author  of  "  Black-eyed  Susan," 
"  The  Rent- Day,"  and  "  The  Wedding  Gown  "  (all  of  which 
pieces  and  many  others  he  had  then  produced),  an  amount  ol 
boyish  gayety  and  a  rapidity  of  movement  which  one  could 
hardly  expect  from  a  writer  who  had  risen  to  high  rank  as  a 
moralist  and  censor. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  a  friendly  interchange  of  jokes  took 
place ;  for  Henry  Mayhew,  though  young,  had  shown,  by  his 
farce  of  "  The  Wandering  Minstrel,"  and  other  kindred  works, 
that  a  keen  sense  of  wit  and  humor  was  among  his  intellect- 
ual qualities  ;  and  after  a  few  satirical  allusions  on  Jerrold's 
part  to  what  he  obviously  thought  the  visionary  nature  of 
Henry  Mayhew's  occupation,  he  turned  suddenly  upon  the 
ambitious  experimentalist  (whose  highly  polished  clothing  had 
caused  him  much  amusement),  and  exclaimed,  "  Why,  you 
look  like  an  advertisement  of  Warren's  blacking  !  " l  It  is  not 
for  me  to  say  whether  this  little  jeu  (f esprit  was  of  the  most 
brilliant  order  of  joking,  but  I  am  at  least  bound  to  state  that 
the  rapid  flash  produced  its  natural  effect,  and  no  one  laughed 
more  heartily  than  Jerrold  himself  ;  for  it  was  a  doctrine  of 

1  Thi»  mot  has  be«n  published  by  Blanchard  Jen-old  in  his  Wit  and  Opinions  of 
DougLn  Jtrrold;  but  inasmuch  as  he  received  it  from  me,  I  Khali  not  be  accused  of 
plagiarism  ;  and  I  give  it  precisely  as  it  occurred. 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  255 

his,  as  it  was  of  Charles  Lamb,  that  a  man  had  a  perfect  right 
to  laugh  at  his  own  jest.1 

From  that  time  forth  I  saw  much  of  Douglas  Jerrold,  and 
few  had  better  or  more  frequent  opportunities  of  observing 
the  kindliness  of  his  nature,  and  the  pleasure  he  took  in  per- 
forming offices  of  friendship  for  literary  aspirants  in  whom  he 
felt  an  interest.  As  to  his  many  good  sayings,  so  slight  was 
his  estimate  of  their  possible  effect,  that  even  friendship 
seemed  to  have  no  charm  against  the  shaft,  and  hence  it  be- 
came a  stereotyped  phrase  that  Jerrold  was  always  "  bitter  " 
—  an  accusation  which  gave  him  so  much  pain  that  he  more 
than  once,  in  his  writings,  made  it  the  subject  of  earnest  dep- 
recation. Against  this  charge  of  bitterness  his  son  aptly  vin- 
dicates him.  He  says  :  "  Although  Douglas  Jerrold  often 
said  bitter  things,  even  of  his  friends,  this  bitterness  never 
lost  him  a  friend  ;  for  to  all  men  who  knew  him  personally,  he 
was  valued  as  a  kind  and  hearty  man  ;  he  sprang  ever  eagerly 
to  the  side  even  of  a  passing  acquaintance  who  needed  a  kind- 
ness. He  might  possibly  speak  something  keenly  barbed  on 
a  grave  occasion  ;  but  his  help  would  be  substantial  and  his 
sympathy  not  the  less  hearty.  For  with  him  a  witty  view  of 
men  and  things  forced  itself  upon  his  mind  so  continually  and 
irresistibly,  and  with  a  vividness  and  power  so  intense,  that 
sarcasm  flashed  from  his  lips  even  when  he  was  deeply 
moved.  He  knew  that  his  subjection  to  the  dominant  faculty 
of  his  mind  had  given  him  a  reputation  in  the  world  for  ill- 
nature  ;  and  he  writhed  under  this  imputation,  for  he  felt  how 
little  he  deserved  it."  It  is  quite  unnecessary  for  me  to  con- 
firm this  statement  by  any  words  of  my  own,  but  I  shall  select 
from  a  correspondence  which  is  now  before  me  two  letters  of 
Jerrold's  in  order  to  show  how  tenderly  considerate  he  was 
for  the  feelings  of  a  friend  under  the  most  delicate  circum- 

1  Shakespeare  expresses  himself  to  a  different  effect,  when  he  says  :  — 

"  A  jest's  prosperity  lies  in  the  ear 
Of  him  that  hears  it,  never  in  the  tongue 
Of  him  that  makes  it." 

Love's  Labor's  Lost. 


256  GEORGE  HODDER. 

stances.  Moreover,  the  letters  are  strongly  characteristic  of 
Jerrold's  laconic  and  forcible  style.  The  first  is  an  answer  to 
an  invitation  I  had  just  sent  him  to  be  present  at  my  wedding, 
and  is  as  follows  :  — 

"Sefittmlter  3*1,  185]. 

"  DEAR  GEORGE,  —  Don't  you  put  yourself  out  of  your  way 
to  be  embarrassed  by  too  many  visitors.  I  '11  see  you  when 
you  come  back,  in  your  bran-new  fetters.  Meanwhile,  I  wish 
you  both  all  happiness.  "  Yours  faithfully, 

"D.  JERROLD." 

The  second  letter  is  dated  in  March,  1857,  four  years  and 
a  half  afterwards,  and  refers  to  the  death  of  my  dear  wife  :  — 

"  DEAR  GEORGE,  —  I  have  just  heard  from  my  daughter  of 
your  terrible  bereavement.  Believe  me  that  I  sympathize  with 
you  most  deeply.  Though  knowing  personally  but  too  little 
of  your  dear  wife,  I  know  enough  to  feel  that  your  loss  must 
be  dreadful.  But  sorrow  is  the  penalty  we  pay  for  life.  For 
the  sake  of  the  dear  child  you  must  bear  up  and  wrestle  with 
your  affliction. 

"  Believe  me  sincerely  yours, 

"  DOUGLAS  JERROLD." 

That  Jerrold's  friends  were  many  is  sufficiently  proved  by 
the  fact  that  in  the  various  social  clubs  he  established  or  as- 
sisted in  establishing  he  always  had  the  support  and  coopera- 
tion of  men  who  knew  him  for  his  private  worth  as  well  as  his 
public  usefulness,  and  who  were  glad  to  belong  to  a  society  of 
which  he  was,  by  universal  consent,  the  head  and  front.  Not 
that  he  ever  assumed  to  himself  a  dominating  position,  or  that 
he  wished  it  to  be  supposed  that  he  possessed  any  special 
power  of  attraction  in  his  personal  characteristics  ;  but  he 
was  essentially,  as  he  called  it,  a  "  clubable  man,"  and  had 
the  faculty  of  promoting  good  fellowship  to  an  extent  which 
few  men  have  been  able  to  inspire.  Of  the  clubs  he  set  afloat 
and  gave  names  to,  within  my  own  recollection,  I  particularly 
call  to  mind  those  which  he  christened  respectively  "  Hooks 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  257 

and  Eyes"  and  "  Our  Club  "  —  the  former  holding  its  weekly 
meetings  at  the  "  Albion,"  in  Russell  Street.  Covent  Garden, 
and  the  latter  at  Clunn's,  in  the  Piazza,  Covent  Garden.1  Of 
the  members  of  those  clubs  (one  of  which  grew  out  of  the 
other)  there  are  many  still  living  who  will  gladly  vouch  for  the 
fact  that  he  tuned  the  first  instrument  in  the  band  —  that  he 
gave  the  key-note  to  their  joviality,  and  that  the  company  con- 
tinued to  look  up  to  him  as  the  ruling  spirit  in  their  social  rev- 
els. Apropos  of  clubs,  it  may  be  here  stated  that  Jerrold 
was  so  pleased  with  the  success  of  his  "  Chronicles  of  Clover- 
nook,"  and  so  impressed  with  the  poetic  sound  and  the  lasting 
popularity  of  the  name  —  "  Clovernook  !  "  —  that  although  it 
can  scarcely  be  called  more  than  a  fragment,  he  often  declared 
his  belief  that  it  had  a  better  chance  of  reaching  the  hands  of 
future  generations  than  the  rest  of  his  books.  Sharing  in  this 
conviction,  and  wishing  to  pay  a  tribute  to  his  father's  memory, 
Blanchard  Jerrold,  some  few  years  after  his  death,  endeavored, 
in  conjunction  with  a  select  body  of  friends,  to  raise  a  sum  of 
money,  in  shares,  to  purchase  a  freehold  in  the  country,  within 
a  few  miles  of  London,  for  the  purpose  of  establishing  a  rural 
retreat,  in  the  shape  of  a  club  (to  be  called  "  the  Clovernook  "), 
to  which  its  members  might  resort  when  anxious  to  escape 
from  the  cares  and  responsibilities  of  London  life.  The  pros- 
pectus of  this  club  I  have  not  before  me  at  the  present  moment, 
but  having  been  its  honorary  secretary,  I  have  in  my  possession 
several  letters  referring  to  it,  and  I  transcribe  a  portion  of  one 
of  them,  because  it  emanates  from  a  gentleman  who  was  well 
qualified  to  form  a  judgment  upon  the  subject.  The  letter  is 
from  John  Cordy  Jeaffreson,  the  author  of  "  Crewe  Rise," 
"Olive  Blake's  Good  Work,"  "A  Book  about  Doctors,"  etc. 
He  says  :  — 

"  The  Clovernook   Club   has   my  warmest   wishes   for  its 

'Many  years  before  this  period  Jerrold  was  an  active  member  of  a  club,  called 
"The  Mulberries,"  which  was  held  at  the  Wrekin  Tavern,  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Covent  Garden,  and  in  which  a  regulation  was  established  that  "  some  paper,  or 
poem,  or  conceit  bearing  upon  Shakespeare  should  be  contributed  by  each  member," 
the  general  title  being  "  Mulberry  Leaves." 

17 


2$8  GEORGE  I/ODDER. 

success,  and  I  hope  one  day  to  be  a  member  of  it.  I  also  fully 
appreciate  the  compliment  paid  me  by  its  promoters  in  placing 
my  name  on  the  committee  ;  but  I  cannot,  without  knowing 
more  exactly  than  I  do  at  present  the  pecuniary  arrangements 
and  prospects  of  the  undertaking,  consent  to  be  a  shareholder. 
Although  I  am  a  literary  man.  I  have  not  said  '  Cood-by '  to 
Caution  and  Prudence,  and  do  not  wish  to  render  myself  liable 
to  be  called  upon  to  pay  a  large  sum  for  expenses  during  the 
first  or  second  year  of  the  Club's  existence  —  and  yet  in  this 
unpleasant  position  I  may  find  myself  if  I  join  in  the  responsi- 
bilities of  an  affair  the  probable  durability  of  which  I  know 
nothing  about.  On  one  occasion,  and  one  only,  Mr. in- 
vited me  to  join  the  Club,  and  I  then  stated  that  I  heartily  ap- 
proved the  scheme,  and  should  like  to  be  a  member,  but,  as  I 
was  very  likely  going  ere  long  to  India,  I  did  not  think  I  should 
invest  in  a  share." 

Whether  Mr.  Jeaffreson's  sly  allusion  to  the  fact  that,  al- 
though he  was  a  literary  man,  he  was  not  without  caution  and 
prudence,  produced  any  immediate  effect  with  intending  mem- 
bers and  shareholders  need  hardly  be  stated  here ;  suffice  it 
that  the  promoters  of  the  scheme  saw  that  it  would  be  difficult 
to  obtain  the  desired  support  from  the  only  persons  to  whom 
they  could  wisely  and  conscientiously  appeal,  and  therefore 
they  very  properly  abandoned  it  before  any  material  expense 
was  incurred. 

It  was  at  the  two  clubs  above  mentioned  —  the  "Hooks 
and  Eyes"  and  "Our  Club"  —  that  Douglas  Jerrold  was 
known  to  have  said  many  of  the  best  things  that  are  recorded 
of  him  ;  but  as  the  great  majority  of  these  have  been  pub- 
lished in  "  The  Wit  and  Opinions  of  Douglas  Jerrold,"  I  need 
not  now  seek  them  out,  although  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that 
the  son  was  enabled  to  string  together  all  the  gems  that  re- 
flected the  flashing  light  of  his  father.  The  indefatigable  lit- 
erary explorer,  Mr.  John  Timbs,  has  devoted  several  pages  of 
his  book  on  "  Club  Life  "  to  a  chapter  on  "  Douglas  Jerrold's 
Clubs,"  in  which  he  has  adroitly  introduced  much  of  the  rich 
fruit  that  fell  around  the  table  when  Jerrold  was  present.  In 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  259 

point  of  fact,  the  wise  and  witty  sayings  of  Jerrold  have  found 
so  many  chroniclers,  in  various  shapes  and  forms,  that  it  would 
perhaps  be  in  vain  to  give  any  important  instances  which 
would  not  at  once  lead  to  the  exclamation,  "  I  have  seen  that 
before  !  " 

As  a  specimen  of  the  singularly  laconic  style  of  Jerrold's 
letters  —  a  style  which  he  has  been  heard  to  say,  jocularly, 
that  he  adopted  because  he  felt,  when  writing  a  private  epis- 
tle, he  was  "  not  going  to  be  paid  for  it "  —  the  following  note, 
received  from  him  a  few  days  before  Christmas  Day,  may  be 
appropriately  quoted  :  — 

"SUNDAY  EVENING.  —  Putney. 

"  DEAR  HODDER,  —  Will  you  dine  with  me  on  Xmas  Day  ? 
"  Yours  truly, 

"  D.  J." 

The  recollection  of  my  long  intercourse  with  Douglas  Jer- 
rold brings  to  my  mind  so  many  agreeable  pictures  in  which 
he  forms  the  most  prominent  figure,  that  I  am  tempted  to 
dwell  for  a  short  time  longer  upon  this  part  of  my  task,  and  to 
relate  such  of  my  experiences  as  relate  especially  to  himself, 
unconnected,  except  in  a  small  degree,  with  other  men  of  lit- 
erary distinction. 

One  of  my  earliest  and  most  agreeable  reminiscences  of 
Jerrold  brings  me  to  a  period  which  at  once  suggests  many 
occurrences  of  peculiar  interest  (as  will  presently  be  seen)  to 
those  who,  in  their  estimate  of  public  characters,  would  gladly 
acquire  some  knowledge  of  their  private  tastes  and  virtues. 
It  was  in  the  year  1841  ;  and  Jerrold  had  for  some  time  domi- 
ciled himself  and  his  family  at  a  snug  little  villa  at  Boulogne, 
in  the  Rue  D'Alger,  Cape'cure,  which,  as  "all  England  "  knows 
(for  all  England  is  supposed  to  be  familiar  with  Boulogne),  is 
on  "  the  other  side  of  the  water  "  from  the  town  proper  ;  his 
motive  for  residing  in  France  being  to  educate  his  children  — 
two  girls  (the  elder  of  whom  afterwards  became  Mrs.  Henry 
Mayhew)  and  three  boys.  William  Blanchard  Jerrold,  the  eld- 
est son,  was  at  that  period  a  rosy-cheeked  stripling  of  about 


260  GEORGE  HODDER. 

fourteen  years  of  age  ;  and  I  am  glad  to  think  that,  as  time 
passed  away,  my  acquaintance  with  him  ripened  into  a  sub- 
stantial and  enduring  friendship.  Jerrold  had  often  written  to 
friends  in  London,  apprising  them  of  the  comfortable  quarters 
he  was  housed  in,  and  inviting  them  to  partake  of  his  hospi- 
tality. Amongst  those  who  were  thus  favored  was  myself,  and 
I  well  remember  the  cordial  terms  in  which  the  invitation  was 
conveyed,  and  the  many  temptations  held  out  to  me  to  un- 
dergo "  the  perils  of  the  Channel  "  for  the  first  time.  The 
prospect  of  a  fortnight's  sojourn  under  the  roof  of  such  a  com- 
panion as  Douglas  Jerrold  was  much  too  tempting  to  be  re- 
sisted ;  and  the  pleasure  I  felt  was  enhanced  when  I  received 
a  letter  from  him,  stating  that,  if  I  came  on  a  given  day  at  a 
specified  time,  the  tide  would  enable  me  to  arrive  at  Boulogne 
at  an  hour  when  he  could  meet  me  on  the  port.  I  went  by 
"  long  sea,"  as  it  was  called  —  that  is  to  say,  by  steamboat 
direct  from  London  Bridge  to  the  harbor  of  this  picturesque 
and  enlivening  watering-place.  The  day  was  a  Sunday  in  the 
month  of  August,  and  the  vessel  reached  its  destination  be- 
tween two  and  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The  weather 
was  lovely  in  the  extreme,  and  the  port  was  thronged  with 
people,  all  more  or  less  anxiously  looking  for  the  arrival  of  the 
boat.  The  scene  was  altogether  the  most  perfect  instance  of 
cheerful  bustle  and  animation  I  had  ever  witnessed  ;  and  I 
was  disposed  to  wonder  how  it  was  that,  in  the  midst  of  so 
much  attractive  excitement,  an  author  could  find  sufficient  re- 
pose for  the  due  exercise  of  his  brain  ;  for  Jerrold  was  at  that 
time  engaged  in  many  important  literary  undertakings. 

Long  before  I  was  enabled  to  leave  the  deck  of  the  vessel,  I 
descried,  to  my  infinite  delight,  Jerrold  standing  as  near  to  the 
landing-place  as  the  crowd  would  permit  him  ;  and  the  moment 
he  saw  me  he  gave  me  such  a  "  sweet  smile  of  welcome  "  that 
I  could  but  feel  what  a  care-dispelling  visit  fortune  had  placed 
in  store  for  me.  Then  came  the  hearty  shake  of  the  hand,  and 
the  joke  —  far,  far  indeed  from  a  "bitter"  one — and  the  delay 
during  the  tedious  ceremony  at  the  custom-house  ;  for  in  those 
days  the  passport  system  was  carried  out  with  the  most  pro- 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  26 1 

yoking  determination.  Arrived  at  Jerrold's  dwelling  he  ex- 
claimed, as  we  entered,  placing  himself  in  a  sort  of  theatrical 
attitude,  "  The  bandit's  haunt !  Let  us  see  what  fare  we  have 
within  !  "  I  very  soon  found,  however,  that  his  habits  were 
by  no  means  of  a  melodramatic  cast,  and  that  he  was  sur- 
rounded by  every  comfort,  not  to  say  luxury,  which  could  be 
desired  by  a  contented  and  united  English  family  abroad.  His 
children  were  home  from  school  that  day,  and  I  was  much 
impressed  by  the  pride  and  pleasure  he  seemed  to  feel  in  intro- 
ducing them,  and  in  pointing  out  jocosely  their  several  charac- 
teristics. 

He  occupied  himself  "  at  his  desk  "  (as  he  always  expressed 
it  when  speaking  of  his  mental  employment)  in  the  morning  ; 
and  in  the  afternoon  he  was  ready  for  a  walk  along  the  sands, 
or  an  excursion  into  the  market-place  to  amuse  himself  with 
the  fruit-vendors,  or  for  a  jaunt  into  the  country  to  one  of  the 
many  attractive  little  villages  which  lie  within  a  few  miles'  dis- 
tance of  Boulogne.  A  dip  in  the  sea  —  his  native  element,  as 
he  sometimes  called  it  —  was  a  relaxation  to  which  he  was 
especially  addicted  ;  but  he  did  not  care  to  indulge  it  where 
the  multitude  were  wont  to  assemble  for  the  same  object.  On 
one  occasion  I  was  walking  with  him  at  sunset  along  the 
beach,  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  when  the  tide  was  unusu- 
ally low,  and  the  sands  were  as  smooth  and  unruffled  as  a 
drawing-room  carpet.  The  charm  of  the  weather  seemed  to 
absorb  Jerrold's  attention,  for  the  evening  was  as  calm  and 
placid  as  the  countenance  of  a  sleeping  infant,  and  he  made 
frequent  allusions  to  the  atmosphere,  which,  he  said,  was 
such  as  he  had  never  experienced  "out  of  France."  At  length, 
fixing  his  eye  upon  the  almost  motionless  sea,  and  inhaling  the 
fresh  air  as  if  he  were  sipping  nectar,  he  suddenly  exclaimed  : 
"  How  lovely  the  water  looks  !  Egad,  I  '11  have  a  dip  !  "  and 
in  scarcely  more  time  than  is  occupied  by  the  pantomime- 
clown  in  making  his  inevitable  "  change,"  he  stuck  his  stick  in 
the  sand,  placed  his  hat  upon  the  top  and  his  clothes  around 
it,  and  ran  into  the  water  with  a  nimbleness  which  he  could 
hardly  have  surpassed  in  the  midshipman  days  of  his  youth. 


262  GEORGE  HODDER. 

During  this  visit  to  Douglas  Jerrold,  I  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alfred  Wigan,  the  now  celebrated,  but 
then  comparatively  unknown,  dramatic  artists,  who  had  been 
living  for  some  weeks  at  Boulogne,  and  with  whom  I  enjoyed 
a  daily  companionship. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wigan  were  frequent  guests  at  the  house  of 
Douglas  Jerrold,  who  entertained  a  strong  opinion  in  regard 
to  the  dramatic  capabilities  of  the  former,  and  was  resolved  to 
promote  his  advancement  by  every  means  at  his  command, 
although  up  to  that  period  Mr.  Wigan  had  really  done  nothing 
to  indicate  the  possession  of  that  histrionic  power  which  he  has 
since  displayed.  During  his  stay  at  Boulogne,  Jerrold  wrote 
that  most  charming  of  serio-comic  dramas,  "  The  Prisoner  of 
War,"  and  also  the  comedy  of  "  Gertrude's  Cherries,"  in  which 
he  introduced  a  character  called  Alcibiade  Blague  (a  Frenchman 
speaking  broken  English),  which  he  had  studiously  designed 
for  Alfred  Wigan,  and  was  resolved  that  no  one  but  that  gen- 
tleman should  play  it.  The  piece  was  ultimately  produced  at 
Covent  Garden  Theatre,  but  with  a  degree  of  success  which 
can  only  be  pronounced  moderate,  although  it  was  brimful  of 
the  characteristic  charms  of  Jerrold's  dramatic  muse,  ami  Mr. 
Wigan  achieved  high  distinction  by  his  personation  in  the  part 
so  generously  assigned  to  him.1  "The  Prisoner  of  War," 
which  was  produced  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre  in  February,  1842, 
met  with  a  different  fate,  for  it  proved  to  be  one  of  the  most 
entertaining  and  effective  pieces  that  ever  came  from  Jerrold's 
pen,  comprising  as  it  did  a  delightful  admixture  of  comedy  and 
pathos,  and  being  performed  by  such  artists  as  Mr.  Thelps, 
Mr.  James  Anderson,  Mr.  Hudson,  Mr.  Selby,  Mr.  Morris 
Barnett,  Mr.  George  Bennett,  Mr.  Keeley,  Mrs.  Keeley,  Miss 
Fortescue,  Mrs.  C.  Jones,  Mrs.  Selby,  etc.  It  is  not  a  little 
singular  that,  proud  as  Jerrold  was  and  had  reason  to  be  of  this 
admirable  work,  he  never  saw  it  played  —  at  least  during  its 
first  season  ;  but  he  always  expected,  he  said,  that  the  result 

'  It  it  difficult  to  conceive  why  thin  piecr,  with  many  others  of  the  same  author** 
production*,  including  The  Wkitt  Milliner,  Th*  fftart  of  (Sol.i,  etc.,  ha*  not  been 
publi>hed  in  the  collected  edition  of  Jerrold'*  comedie*  and  dramas. 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  263 

would  prove  as  gratifying  as  it  did  ;  for  the  sentiment  was 
homely  and  truthful,  and  there  were  two  characters  in  the 
piece  — Peter" Pall  Mall  and  Polly  Pall  Mall,  brother  and 
sister  —  represented  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Keeley,  which  were 
sufficiently  diverting  to  insure  a  successful  ordeal  for  even  a 
less  meritorious  work. 

The  reference  to  this  drama  in  particular  naturally  leads  to 
the  consideration  of  Douglas  Jerrold's  dramas  in  general ;  and 
I  cannot  but  think  it  a  source  of  national  regret  that  such 
thoroughly  original  and  legitimate  productions  as  "  Time 
Works  Wonders,"  "  Bubbles  of  the  Day,"  "  The  Rent  Day," 
"  The  Schoolfellows,"  "  The  Housekeeper,"  "  The  Wedding 
Gown,"  "  Doves  in  a  Cage,"  "  The  Prisoner  of  War,"  "  Re- 
tired from  Business."  etc.,  should  not  be  occasionally  revived 
on  the  metropolitan  stage,  for  the  charm  of  reading  them  is  so 
great  that  one  yearns  to  see  them  assume  a  substantial  form 
and  color.  Setting  aside  the  more  important  plays  in  five 
acts  —  "  Time  Works  Wonders" l  and  "  Bubbles  of  the  Day  "  — 
it  has  always  appeared  to  me  that  Jerrold's  dramatic  works  are 
the  best  efforts  of  his  genius,  combining  as  they  do  the  most 
concise  and  salutary  plots,  and  an  infinite  knowledge  of  the 
secret  springs  of  character,  with  the  most  terse,  yet  impres- 
sive dialogue  ;  and  it  is  certainly  sad  to  think  that  "  Black- 
Eyed  Susan  "(the  extraordinary  merit  of  which,  strange  to  say, 
he  could  never  be  induced  to  admit)  should  be  the  only  one  of 
his  pieces  which  holds  its  due  position  before  the  public, 
while  encouragement  is  given  to  a  class  of  composition  which 
never  did,  and  never  can,  belong  to  the  "  literature  "  of  the 
drama.  Jerrold's  dramas  still  "  live,"  but,  unhappily,  not  in 
the  full  knowledge  of  those  who  would  rejoice  in  becoming 
more  practically  acquainted  with  them  than  they  can  possibly 
be  through  the  unaided  process  of  reading. 

To  return  to  the  domiciliary  habits  of  Jerrold  at  his  little 
cottage  at  Boulogne-sur-Mer.  In  the  simplicity  of  his  heart 

1  When  Jerrold  first  told  me  he  had  finished  this  comedy  he  called  it  "  School- 
girl Love,"  and  I  made  free  to  remark  that  I  did  not  think  the  title  sufficiently  im- 
posing for  a  five-act  play. 


264  GEORGE  HODDER. 

(for  it  is  a  trite  proverb  that  the  greatest  minds  can  find  pleasure 
in  the  smallest  diversions)  he  had  a  most  amiable  predilec- 
tion for  giving  juvenile  parties  —  that  is  to  say,  parties  con- 
sisting of  his  two  daughters  and  certain  of  their  school  com- 
panions ;  and  on  those  occasions  he  included  in  the  programme 
of  the  evening's  amusement  "acting  charades,"  in  which  the 
principal  performers  were  himself,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wigan,  and 
M.  Bonnefoy,  the  preceptor  of  his  three  boys.  With  what 
impulsive  delight  he  entered  into  the  spirit  of  those  entertain- 
ments may  be  imagined  by  those  who  are  not  unmindful  of  the 
energy  he  displayed  when  subjecting  himself  to  the  ordeal  of 
the  stage  ;  and  they  may  also  conceive  the  intelligent  zeal  and 
earnestness  with  which  Mr.  Wigan  (who  was  then  patiently 
awaiting  the  chance  of  showing  the  "  metal "  that  was  in  him) 
performed  his  part  in  the  extempore  representations.  But  the 
greatest  charm  of  all  to  be  found  in  those  merry  soirtes  was 
gathered  from  the  graceful  agility  of  the  juvenile  ladies,  who 
would  commence  a  dance  in  the  drawing-room  and  continue  it 
in  the  garden,  under  the  light  of  the  moon  —  "  sweet  mistress  " 
of  the  ceremonies,  as  she  was  "  of  the  sky."  The  entire  bevy 
of  young  damsels  being  dressed  in  white  muslin,  the  effect  of 
their  evolutions,  as  they  tripped  round  the  green  sward  at  the 
back  of  the  house,  was  certainly  suggestive  of  a  scene  from 
one  of  those  ever-captivating  fairy  stories,  which  are  the  de- 
light of  age  no  less  than  of  youth,  and  which,  it  is  hoped,  may 
always  recur  to  us  at  our  seasons  of  rejoicing.  Many  years 
have  elapsed  since  those  happy  times,  and  I  have  often  re- 
verted to  them  with  a  memory  full  of  gratitude  for  the  enjoy- 
ment 1  then  experienced,  and  have  asked  myself  the  question 
"  Will  such  days  or  nights  ever  come  to  us  again  ?  "  Or  is  it 
that,  by  some  singular  ordination  of  Providence,  we  are  prone 
to  look  at  the  past  with  a  higher  sense  of  thankfulness  than  at 
the  present  ?  In  any  case,  I  shall  ever  be  keenly  alive  to  the 
conviction  that  at  no  period  of  my  career  have  I  partaken  of 
more  unalloyed  pleasure  —  more  innocent  and  healthful  amuse 
ment,  than  I  enjoyed  under  the  "  roof-tree  "  of  Douglas  Jerrold, 
at  Boulogne-sur-Mer. 


DOUCLAS  JERROLD.  26$ 

Some  years  afterwards  Jerrold  rented  a  cottage  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Herne  Bay  ;  and  there  also  I  received,  under 
similar  circumstances,  his  most  agreeable  hospitality ;  but, 
blessed  as  he  was  with  all  those  domestic  comforts  which  suf- 
ficed to  gratify  his  moderate  aspirations,  the  absence  of  that 
picturesque  element  belonging  to  the  French  watering-place 
prevented  his  indulging  that  perfect  abandon  which  he  felt 
under  the  sunny  skies  of  the  Pas  de  Calais.  Still  he  was 
ever  the  most  pleasant  and  attentive  of  hosts,  as  Mrs.  Jerrold 
was  the  most  thoughtful  and  considerate  of  housewives  ;  and 
it  was  noticeable  that,  so  cunningly  did  the  former  arrange 
his  few  hours'  work  by  rising  early  in  the  morning,  that  he 
never  seemed  absent  from  his  guests,  who  were  often  some- 
what numerous  at  that  time.  Plans  would  be  arranged  daily 
for  drives  or  pedestrian  excursions  to  Margate  or  Canterbury, 
or  to  some  sequestered  nook  lying  far  away  in  the  country ; 
and  on  those  occasions  Jerrold  would  infuse  new  life  into  the 
party,  by  his  never-ceasing  glee,  and  by  the  rapidity  with  which 
he  seized  every  possible  opportunity  of  "tuning  his  merry 
note  "  to  the  utterance  of  a  jest  or  anecdote  that  sprang  out 
of  the  conversation,  or  from  some  fleeting  material  which  his 
quickness  of  perception  had  enabled  him  to  discover  by  the 
wayside. 

One  of  the  most  agreeable  and  most  memorable  of  the  ex- 
cursions now  referred  to  was  a  jaunt  by  private  conveyance  to 
Whitstable,  the  object  being  to  eat  oysters  fresh  from  the  sea. 
The  party  on  that  occasion  consisted  of  Jerrold,  John  Leech, 
Henry  Mayhew  (who  was  then  engaged  in  the  preparation  of 
an  English  dictionary  on  a  very  elaborate  scale,  and  had  taken 
up  his  abode  in  a  quiet,  rural  spot,  with  a  view  to  pursuing  his 
labors),  Kenny  Meadows,  and  myself.  The  oysters  were 
pronounced  to  be  such  as  "  nobody  "  had  ever  tasted  before  ; 
and  as  they  were  supplied  to  us  at  less  than  half  the  cost  that 
they  have  reached  of  late  years,  the  quantity  consumed  was 
sufficient  to  justify  a  general  recourse  to  some  obviously- 
smuggled  Schiedam,  which  caused  us  all  to  smack  our  lips 
with  approving  gusto,  and  which  found  such  charms  for  one  of 


266  GEORGE  HODDER. 

the  party  (who  shall  not  be  described  by  name),  that  he 
achieved  the  feat  of  imbibing,  on  the  return  journey,  under  a 
scorching  July  sun,  the  contents  of  a  full  flask.  And  he  lives 
to  tell  the  tale  !  That  he  did  not  present  himself  at  dinner 
that  day  may  well  be  believed  ;  and  much  did  he  lose  by  his 
absence,  for  Jerrold  was  in  one  of  his  most  humorous  moods, 
and  managed  without  any  abnormal  effort  to  keep  the  table  in 
a  roar ;  but,  it  must  be  confessed,  at  the  expense  of  our  val- 
iant spirit-drinker,  whose  prowess  had  rendered  every  allusion 
to  his  name  a  source  of  unavoidable  merriment.  It  was  dui- 
ing  Jerrold's  residence  at  Herne  Bay  that  he  conceived  and 
planned  many  of  the  best-known  emanations  from  his  pen,  in- 
cluding "  The  Chronicles  of  Clovernook,"  already  referred  to  ; 
and  other  attractive  contributions  to  the  "  Illuminated  Maga- 
zine," which  had  been  started  not  long  previously  under  his 
auspices  and  those  of  Mr.  Ebenezer  Landells,  the  engraver. 
The  duty  of  sub-editor  was  assigned  to  me,  and  in  that  capaq- 
ity  I  was  called  upon  to  be  the  medium  of  communication  be- 
tween the  artists  and  the  authors,  and  to  supply  the  former 
with  wood-blocks  as  well  as  subjects  for  their  work.  The 
practical  responsibility  of  arranging  the  contents  of  each  num- 
ber also  devolved  upon  me  ;  jind,  as  this  brought  me  in  con- 
tact with  contributors  who  preferred  addressing  me  to  inflict- 
ing their  correspondence  upon  the  editor,  Douglas  Jerrold,  I 
often  received  letters  which  possessed  an  interest  beyond  that 
of  the  passing  moment.  I  copy  the  following  as  an  example 
of  the  unreserved  manner  in  which  a  writer  will  place  his 
confidence  in  one  who,  if  he  does  not  occupy  the  "  editorial 
chair,"  has  immediate  access  to  it.  The  letter  is  from  a  gen- 
tleman who  had  already  published  two  successful  novels, 
and  has  since  written  others  of  corresponding  ability  and 

power  :  — 

"  NOTTINGHAM,  May  a,  1844. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  ascertain 
whether  the  last  story  I  sent  to  Mr.  Jerrold  is  acceptable  or 
not  ?  I  observe  myself  absent  again  this  .month,  or  you 
would  not  have  been  troubled.  But  the  fact  is  I  am  one  of 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  267 

those  unlucky  dogs  to  whom  the  pen  is  a  dependence,  —  pre- 
cisely the  same  thing,  you  know,  as  saying  my  life  hangs  on  a 
thread  ;  and,  therefore,  it  is  of  importance  to  me  —  that  is  to 
the  extent  of  the  bread-basket  — to  avoid  delay  as  far  as  pos- 
sible in  the  publication  of  such  papers  as  may  have  the  luck 
to  meet  with  approval,  or,  if  not,  to  have  them  returned  as 
early  as  may  be  convenient. 

"  I  feel  entire  reliance  upon  Mr.  Jerrold's  kindness  and  con- 
sideration for  my  excuse  in  making  these  remarks,  because  he 
knows  too  well  how  much,  at  the  very  best,  must  be  endured 
by  any  one  like  myself  and  thus  situated.  But  whether,  on 
that  account,  we  deserve  any  more  consideration  than  your 
happy  and  flourishing  amateur  penman,  who  feels  sufficiently 
paid  by  seeing  himself  in  print,  is  a  question  upon  which,  of 
course,  I  can  offer  no  opinion. 

"  Believe  me,  very  sincerely  yours, 

"  CHARLES  HOOTON." 

As  I  could  not  always  be  present  when  Jerrold  was  arrang- 
ing the  contents  of  the  number  for  the  ensuing  month,  his 
practice  was  to  send  me  word  by  letter  the  names  of  the  arti- 
cles he  had  chosen,  and  which  he  desired  should  be  next  in 
order  of  publication.  The  following  will  serve  to  convey  some 
idea  of  the  fairness  with  which  he  dealt  out  his  opinions  upon 
papers  submitted  to  his  editorial  judgment.  It  will  be  seen 
that  the  letter  refers  to  an  illness  from  which  I  was  then  re- 
covering, and  to  other  matters  of  a  personal  nature,  but  the 
main  object  of  his  writing  was  to  direct  my  attention  to  a  de- 
cision he  had  come  to  respecting  contributions  he  had  re- 
ceived for  the  "  Illuminated  Magazine." 

"  September  9. 

"  MY  DEAR  HODDER,  —  I  write  after  hard  morning's  work, 
so  write  short.  I  'm  happy  to  hear  you  're  recovering.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  among  us  we  shall  be  able  to  make  you  some 
little  amends  if  the  San.  [Sanatorium]  should  fail.1 

"  '  The  Dwellings  of  the  Poor '  goes  in  this  month.  Hos- 
kins  not  at  all. 

1  The  Sanatorium,  or  Home  in  Sickness  —  an  institution  of  which  I  was  then  secre- 
tary. 


268  GEORGE  HODDER. 

"  If  you  return  in  about  ten  days,  't  will  be  time  enough  for 
index.  The  Mag.  is  rising.  I  have  been  worked  to  death  for 
•  Punch,'  having  it  all  on  my  shoulders,  Mark,1  a  Beckett,  and 
Thackeray  being  away.  Nevertheless,  last  week  it  went  up 
1,500.  "  Yours  ever  truly, 

"  D.  J." 

Some  of  the  best  papers  that  Jerrold  ever  wrote  for  serial 
publications  appeared  in  this  periodical :  "  Elizabeth  and  Vic- 
toria "  (a  comparison  between  the  social  customs  and  vices  of 
the  two  reigns) ;  "  The  Order  of  Poverty  ;  "  "  The  Old  Man 
at  the  Gate  ;  "  "  The  Two  Windows  ; "  "  The  Folly  of  the 
Sword  ;  "  and,  above  all,  "  The  Chronicles  of  Clovernook," 
which  he  composed  under  the  disadvantage  of  seriously  im- 
paired health.  During  the  progress  of  that  work  he  was  at- 
tacked by  rheumatism  in  so  aggravated  a  form  that  I  fre- 
quently saw  him  propped  up  in  bed  while  he  prepared  a 
chapter  which  the  printer's  boy  was  waiting  below  to  receive  ; 
and  it  was  really  touching  to  observe  the  patient  endurance  he 
betrayed  when  engaged  in  an  occupation  which  necessarily  in- 
creased the  pain  he  was  suffering.  Whether  his  sensibilities 
were  quickened  by  the  sad  condition  he  was  reduced  to,  or 
whether  his  mind  had  become  so  thoroughly  imbued  with  the 
subject  he  was  treating,  that  even  pain  could  not  prevent  his 
fulfilling  his  purpose,  it  is  not  for  me  to  say  ;  but  certain  it 
is  that  during  that  long  and  severe  illness  the  most  poetical 
thoughts  ever  kindled  in  the  brain  of  Jerrold  were  laid  before 
the  world.  The  body  was  weakened  by  suffering,  but  the 
light  within  was  unquenched,  and  the  results  of  his  mental 
vigor  at  that  crisis  forcibly  illustrate  the  truth  of  a  theory 
which  he  advocated,  whenever  he  heard  of  any  extraordinary 
achievement  by  a  contemporary  whose  advanced  age  would 
seem  to  render  such  achievement  impossible  —  that  "  Genius 
never  dies." 

Indeed,  so  weak  and  emaciated  had  poor  Jerrold  become  at 
that  time  that  many  of  his  friends  began  to  have  serious  mis- 

1  Mark  Lemon,  the  editor. 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  269 

givings  as  to  his  ultimate  recovery  ;  but  (as  he  was  often  heard 
to  exclaim  in  after-days)  he  took  counsel  with  himself  one 
morning  as  he  endeavored  to  rise  in  his  bed  ;  and  when  he 
thought  of  what  he  had  done,  and  what  he  hoped  to  be  still 
capable  of  doing,  he  said,  "No  —  I  am  not  going  to  die." 
That  he  uttered  these  words  with  the  same  emphasis  and 
vigor  which  characterize  the  ejaculations  of  Uncle  Toby  in  the 
"  Story  of  Le.fevre  "  can  hardly  be  suggested  ;  but  he  was  cer- 
tainly a  man  of  stern  resolve  ;  and  he  felt  that  his  health  gave 
signs  of  improvement,  and  that  he  was  not  doomed  to  end  his 
days  thus  prematurely.  But  whether  his  health  had  improved 
or  not,  such  was  the  dominant  force  of  his  will  that  he  deter- 
mined to  undergo  the  ordeal  of  the  cold-water  cure  at  Great 
Malvern  ;  and  he  allowed  himself  to  be  carried  from  his  bed 
to  the  conveyance  that  was  in  readiness  to  remove  him  from 
his  home.  He  was  absent,  I  think,  about  three  weeks  ;  and 
on  his  return  his  health,  though  not  perfectly  restored,  was 
much  invigorated,  for  the  root  of  the  disease  seemed  to  have 
been  destroyed,  and  he  was  capable  of  resuming  his  literary 
labors  and  the  editorship  of  the  "  Illuminated  Magazine," 
which,  as  he  had  reason  to  believe,  was  "  rising  "  in  circula- 
tion. 

The  principle  upon  which  this  magazine  was  conducted 
afforded  an  illustration  among  the  many  which  came  within 
my  knowledge  of  the  exceptional  readiness  shown  by  Jerrold 
to  allow  young  authors,  who  had  never  before  "  seen  them- 
selves in  print,"  to  make  their  debut  under  his  editorial  aus- 
pices. There  are  many  writers  now  holding  prominent  posi- 
tions before  the  public  whose  names  were  totally  unknown, 
either  to  fortune  or  to  fame,  until  Douglas  Jerrold,  with  a  vivid 
appreciation  of  the  merit  that  was  in  them,  gave  them  an  op- 
portunity of  starting  on  the  career  they  aspired  to.  The  pages 
of  the  "Illuminated"  were  generously  thrown  open  to  "all 
comers  "  whose  contributions  presented  sufficient  evidence  of 
talent  to  Jerrold's  discriminating  eye  ;  and,  what  is  more,  he 
permitted  them  to  affix  their  names  to  their  articles  if  they 
were  so  disposed,  for  he  could  not  see  the  justice  of  one  all- 


270  GEORGE  HODDER. 

powerful  writer  keeping   his  own  name  prominently  forward 
while  those  of  his  collaborateurs  were  suppressed. 

The  "  purpose  "  of  the  "  Illuminated  Magazine,"  as  stated 
by  Jerrold  in  a  preface  to  the  first  volume,  is  thus  de- 
scribed :  — 

"  It  has  been  the  wish  of  the  proprietors  of  this  work  to 
speak  to  the  MASSES  of  the  people  ;  and  whilst  sympathizing 
with  their  deeper  and  sterner  wants,  to  offer  to  them  those 
graces  of  art  and  literature  which  have  too  long  been  held  the 
exclusive  right  of  those  of  happier  fortunes." 

That  the  magazine  contained  many  articles  especially 
adapted  to  the  "  masses  "  can  scarcely  be  averred,  nor  was 
Jerrold's  style  of  writing  (at  least  in  those  days,  when  he  had 
not  yet  thrown  himself  into  the  arena  of  newspaper  contro- 
versy) such  as  could  be  said  to  appeal  successfully  to  the  com- 
prehension of  the  "  great  uneducated  ;  "  but  his  heart  and 
sympathies  kept  him  their  firm  champion,  although  his  nature 
was  so  fastidious  that  his  friends  were  often  known  to  say  to 
him,  "  Jerrold,  you  're  a  thorough  aristocrat  in  the  main." 

The  magazine  came  into  existence  in  the  month  of  May, 
1843,  and  terminated  its  career  at  the  close  of  the  third  vol- 
ume (each  volume  extending  over  a  period  of  six  months). 
The  final  number  contained  the  following  :  — 

"  POSTSCRIPT  BY  THE  EDITOR. 

"  With  this  number  closes  the  third  volume  of  the  '  Illumi- 
nated Magazine,'  and  with  it  close  the  duties  of  the  present 
editor.  In  the  progress  of  his  task  he  has  received  so  much 
pleasure  and  encouragement  from  the  sympathies  and  best 
wishes  of  many,  that  he  cannot  lay  down  the  pen  without  thus 
formally  acknowledging  them.  Trusting  that  the  brevity  with 
which  this  is  done  will  not  impugn  its  sincerity,  the  editor  — 
as  editor  —  bid?  his  readers  a  respectful  farewell ;  but  not 
without  the  hope  of  again  meeting  them  in  these  pages. 

"DOUGLAS  JERROLD. 

"Stft.  97/4" 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  2/1 

The  limited  career  of  this  work  was  doubtless  owing  to  its 
unwieldly  size,  for  it  can  scarcely  be  supposed  that  a  monthly 
periodical,  whose  page  presented  almost  as  many  superficial 
inches  as  that  of  the  "  Illustrated  London  News,"  would  be 
regarded  as  a  convenient  form  for  the  ultimate  operation  of 
binding.  The  work  was  admirably  printed  ;  the  illustrations 
were  engraved  by  E.  Landells,  and  designed  by  the  best 
artists  of  the  day  in  this  branch  of  the  pictorial  art,  including 
Kenny  Meadows,  Leech,  Hine,  Prior,  Harvey,  Henning,  Gil- 
bert, etc. ;  the  letter-press  comprised  some  of  the  most  reada- 
ble productions  of  the  day,  both  in  poetry  and  in  prose,  and, 
above  all,  one  of  the  leading  attractions  was  the  series  of 
papers  by  the  editor,  under  the  title  of  "  Chronicles  of  Clo- 
vernook,"  which,  as  previously  stated  in  this  volume,  Jerrold 
estimated  as  his  masterpiece  in  descriptive  and  imaginative 
writing.  It  is  abundantly  clear,  therefore,  that  the  cause  of 
its  downfall  must  not  be  looked  for  in  the  contents,  but  in  the 
unwillingness  of  the  reading  world  to  be  diverted  from  the 
more  handy  magazines  to  which  it  had  become  familiarized. 

Not  very  long  after  the  extinction  of  the  "  Illuminated  Mag- 
azine," Messrs.  Bradbury  and  Evans  (who  by  this  time  had 
so  allied  themselves  to  Jerrold  that  he  seldom  published  any- 
thing except  under  their  auspices)  produced  a  monthly  periodi- 
cal, bearing  Jerrold's  name  as  the  editor,  with  a  desire  to  re- 
sume, as  far  as  possible,  the  same  character  of  articles  for 
which  the  former  work  was  especially  distinguished.  The 
new  publication  was  called  "  Douglas  Jerrold  's  Shilling  Mag- 
azine," and,  when  all  preliminaries  were  settled,  he  addressed 
me  the  following  note  in  reference  to  Dr.  Hitchman,  whose 
name  I  recall  with  much  satisfaction  :  — 

'Nov.  ii tk,  '44. 

"  DEAR  HODDER,  —  I  arrived  back  last  night.  My  object 
in  now  writing  is  that  you  should  speak  to  Mr.  H.  (I  forget 
his  name),  the  surgeon  of  Sanatorium,  telling  him  that  I  have 
a  magazine  coming  out  on  the  ist  of  January  (the  thing  is  de- 
cided), and  that  I  shall  be  very  glad  if  he  will  furnish  an  ar- 


272  GEORGE  HODDER. 

tide  of  the  same  nature  to  his  last.    The  matter  must  be  of 
\\\t  present  day,  and  social  in  its  application. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  D.  J." 

I  need  not  say  that  the  wish  of  my  correspondent  was  strict- 
ly obeyed  by  me,  and  also,  I  believe,  by  the  learned  doctor. 

In  the  new  magazine,  which  in  point  of  size  was  the  very 
opposite  of  the  "  Illuminated,"  Jerrold  published  his  "  St.  Giles 
and  St.  James,"  "Twiddlethumb  Town,"  and  "The  Hedgehog 
Papers  ; "  but  as  I  was  in  no  way  associated  with  him  in  re- 
gard to  the  periodical,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  enlarge  upon  its 
characteristics,  further  than  to  draw  attention  to  a  somewhat 
romantic  incident  which  I  communicated  to  him,  and  which  it 
was  his  intention  to  introduce  into  that  work  if  its  career  had 
not  been  prematurely  brought  to  a  close.  It  was  some  time 
after  the  "  Shilling  Magazine  "  was  projected  that  a  now  de- 
ceased sister  of  mine,  having  lost  her  husband  in  one  of  the 
Indian  wars,  was  about  to  return  to  this  country.  She  had 
made  her  way -from  the  seat  of  warfare  to  Calcutta,  there  to 
embark  on  one  of  the  steamers  leaving  that  city.  Hearing, 
however,  that  a  sailing  vessel,  under  the  command  of  one  of 
her  brothers,  Captain  Charles  Hodder,  was  shortly  to  arrive  at 
Madras,  she  prolonged  her  stay  at  Calcutta,  and  ultimately 
made  her  way  to  the  former  city.  There  she  was  detained 
several  weeks,  as  she  was  resolved  to  return  to  England  in 
her  brother's  ship,  and  the  money  she  expended  in  conse- 
quence of  the  delay  was  actually  a  matter  of  serious  consider- 
ation, seeing  that  she  had  not  long  lost  her  husband,  and  that 
she  would  not  be  able  to  complete  her  pecuniary  arrange- 
ments until  her  arrival  in  London. 

At  length  came  the  day  of  sailing,  and  my  sister  (who  had 
her  only  child  with  her,  a  boy  some  twelve  months  old)  was  the 
sole  female  passenger  ;  but  she  was  so  overjoyed  at  the  idea 
of  returning  home  under  the  care  and  guidance  of  her  own 
brother,  that  she  was  fully  reconciled  to  her  position,  and 
indeed  she  felt  some  little  compensation  for  the  sad  bereave- 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  2?$ 

ment  she  had  lately  sustained.  One  evening,  while  still  skirt- 
ing the  Coromandel  coast,  the  vessel  struck  upon  a  reef,  and 
my  brother  found  that  she  was  doomed  to  be  a  total  wreck. 
Hastening  down  to  his  sister's  cabin,  and  throwing  his  arms 
round  her  neck,  he  exclaimed,  "  Margaret,  the  ship's  ashore, 
and  I  am  a  ruined  man  !  "  She  never  murmured,  nor  gave 
way  to  those  hysterical  shrieks  in  which  the  tender  sex  too 
often  seek  relief  in  their  misfortunes,  but  affectionately  em- 
braced her  brother,  and  implored  him  to  hope  for  the  best. 
She  then  placed  what  money  she  possessed  at  his  disposal, 
and  begged  that  he  would  resort  to  it  in  case  of  need.  Nor 
did  she  dream  of  deserting  him,  but  was  heroically  resolved 
to  remain  with  him  whatever  might  betide.  It  was,  however, 
unadvisible  that  she  should  continue  on  board  that  night,  as 
there  appeared  to  be  no  chance  of  saving  the  vessel,  and  the 
probability  was  that  early  in  the  morning  the  whole  of  the 
crew  would  be  compelled  to  abandon  her.  The  lady  was 
therefore  conveyed  ashore  with  her  child,  and  she  lay  on  the 
beach  all  night  under  the  shelter  of  a  capacious  umbrella. 
She  had  taken  with  her  a  necessary  supply  of  provisions,  and, 
from  what  I  understood  at  the  time,  the  natives  endeavored  to 
steal  them,  for  at  break  of  day  my  brother,  in  surveying  the 
spot  by  the  aid  of  his  telescope,  saw  his  sister  belaboring 
some  two  or  three  black  fellows  with  a  formidable  weapon  she 
held  in  her  hand.  'But  this  is  only  a  single  instance  of  the 
courage  and  determination  she  displayed  after  the  melancholy 
catastrophe,  for  the  abandonment  of  the  vessel  was  found  to 
be  inevitable,  and  my  sister's  exemplary  fortitude  was  of  great 
service  to  her  brother  in  the  strait  to  which  he  was  unhappily 
reduced.  So  completely  had  she  fixed  her  mind  upon  reach- 
ing England  with  him,  that  she  accompanied  him  by  the  over- 
land route  (as  he  was  compelled  to  expedite  his  return  in 
order  to  relate  the  particulars  of  the  wreck  to  the  owners  of 
his  vessel),  and  played  a  Christian  woman's  part  towards  him 
until  she  saw  him  in  safety  at  her  own  fireside  in  London.  On 
my  recounting  this  little  story  to  Jerrold'some  time  afterwards, 
while  sitting  tete-a-tete  with  him  at  the  Cafe"  de  1'Europe,  in 
18 


274  GEORGE  HODDEK. 

the  Haymarket,  I  found  I  had  touched  a  chord  in  his  sensitive 
heart ;  and  when  I  came  to  the  close,  he  exclaimed,  thump- 
ing his  hand  upon  the  table,  as  was  his  wont  when  his  enthu- 
siasm was  aroused,  "  By  G — d  !  that  woman  's  a  heroine  ! 
There  's  a  sister  for  a  brother  to  be  proud  of ! "  He  then 
begged  me  to  sketch  out  the  details  of  the  adventure  upon 
paper ;  and  I  speedily  did  so.  But,  for  the  reason  I  have  al- 
ready described,  his  rendering  of  the  story  never  appeared  in 
print. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  agreeable  intercourse  I  enjoyed  with 
Douglas  Jerrold  on  the  occasion  of  my  first  visit  to  Boulogne 
—  a  seaport  which,  although  it  has  been  almost  the  fashion  to 
regard  it  as  an  English  rather  than  as  a  French  watering-place, 
is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  as  much  a  constituent  part  of 
the  great  empire  of  France  as  any  other  town  lying  between 
the  straits  of  Dover  and  Paris.  At  the  period  just  referred  to 
I  had  no  thought  of  anything  beyond  pleasure  and  recreation  ; 
but  many  years  subsequently  I  visited  the  same  country  again 
with  my  friend,  under  circumstances  which  partook  chiefly  of 
a  business  character.  In  such  high  esteem  was  the  name  of 
Jerrold  held  as  the  writer  of  the  "  Q  "  articles,  which  formed 
the  political  element  of  "  Punch,"  that  in  the  beginning  of  the 
year  1848  some  few  gentlemen  of  small  capital  tempted  him  to 
sanction  the  starting  of  a  weekly  journal  in  the  liberal  inter- 
est, under  the  title  of  "  Douglas  Jerrold's  Weekly  Newspa- 
per," himself,  of  course,  the  editor  ;  and  the  revolution  which 
drove  Louis  Philippe  from  the  throne  occurring  shortly  after- 
wards, it  was  suggested  that  a  powerful  impetus  might  be 
given  to  the  undertaking  by  Jerrold  visiting  Paris,  and  writing 
in  the  midst  of  the  popular  disturbances  a  series  of  articles 
from  ocular  demonstration. 

All  arrangements  being  made  for  his  departure,  he  proposed 
that  I  should  accompany  him,  with  a  view  to  assist  him  by 
collecting  material  for  the  exercise  of  his  pen  ;  and  we  arrived 
in  Paris  a  few  days  "after  the  outbreak  of  the  revolutionary 
movement.  To  describe  the  state  of  Paris  at  that  extraordi- 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  2?$ 

nary  crisis  would  indeed  be  idle,  as  the  details  have  long  be- 
come matter  of  universal  history.  But  I  feel  bound  to  revert 
to  that  period  because  it  affords  me  an  opportunity  of  exhib- 
iting a  new  phase  of  Douglas  Jerrold's  character,  though  at 
the  same  time  I  should  state  that  the  son  has  recorded  in  the 
biography  already  referred  to  —  chiefly  indeed  from  informa- 
tion supplied  by  myself  —  some  particulars  of  the  father's 
visit  to  the  French  capital.  On  our  arrival  in  that  metropolis 
many  of  the  streets  were  rendered  totally  impassable  by  the 
barricades  which  had  been  raised  throughout  the  city.  The 
insurrectionary  fury  had  been  partially  spent ;  but  the  whole 
populace  was  in  a  most  disorganized  condition  ;  and  so  immi- 
nent was  the  danger  of  an  entente  arising,  that  the  National 
Guard  were  in  arms  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night,  and  the 
peaceful  portion  of  the  citizens  were  constantly  disturbed  by 
the  sounding  of  the  rappel.  In  all  the  public  places  flags  and 
placards  were  exhibited,  presenting  such  inscriptions  as 
"  Vive  la  Reforme"  "  Vive  la  Garde  Naiionale."  "  A  has  le 
Roi  !  "  "  A  bas  Guizot  /  "  "  Vive  le  peuple  !  "  etc.,  while  the 
universal  cry  was  " Libert^  EgalM,  Fraterniti" 

Amongst  the  many  excitements  in  which  the  people  in- 
dulged was  that  of  planting,  in  the  most  frequented  streets, 
"trees  of  liberty,"  some  of  which  manifested  a  disposition  to 
grow,  but  the  great  majority  were  so  choked  by  the  surrounding 
paving-stones  that  they  vainly  struggled  to  exist.  All  this 
was  abundantly  visible  to  us  during  the  first  twenty-four  hours 
of  our  stay  in  Paris ;  and  Jerrold,  having  once  satisfied  his 
eyes  as  to  the  general  condition  of  the  city,  would  not  have 
been  at  all  sorry  had  he  been  compelled  to  return  home  on  the 
day  after  his  arrival.  On  the  second  day  he  sat  down  in  an 
uncomfortable  corner  of  our  private  sitting-room,  in,  if  I  re- 
member rightly,  the  H6tel  Bedford,  and  penned  a  long  letter 
for  his  paper  ;  but  gave  little  or  no  proof  that  he  was  writing 
from  the  scene  of  action.  I  saw,  when  he  had  dispatched  his 
parcel,  that  he  had  embarked  in  an  enterprise  which  was  not 
likely  to  yield  a  return  commensurate  with  the  outlay,  and  in 
the  few  subsequent  attempts  he  made  to  fulfill  his  mission  it 


2/6  GEORGE  HODDER. 

was  evident  that  his  mind  was  not  in  his  work.  "  After  all," 
he  more  than  once  exclaimed,  "  I  might  just  as  well  do  this  in 
Cheapside  or  Fleet  Street ;  "  and  on  my  reminding  him  that 
I  had  accompanied  him  to  Paris  for  the  sole  purpose  of  col- 
lecting "facts"  for  him,  and  that  I  was  most  willing  to  carry 
out  that  object,  he  said,  somewhat  angrily,  "  D — n  the  facts  ! 
I  don't  want  facts."  Whereupon  I  expressed  my  regret  that  I 
had  ever  left  London,  as  I  did  not  like  the  idea  of  being  use- 
less to  him ;  and  many  a  time,  when  I  hastened  back  to  the 
hotel  after  spending  some  hours  in  gathering  valuable  infor- 
mation, and  thought  I  should  please  him  by  describing  what  I 
had  seen  or  learnt,  he  received  me  with  coldness,  and  em- 
phatically declined  to  accept  my  proffered  aid.  I  frequently 
reminded  him  that  he  had  not  yet  delivered  the  letters  of  in- 
troduction, which  he  possessed,  to  Lamartine,  Ledru-Rollin, 
and  other  influential  persons,  either  in  connection  with  the 
Provisional  Government,  or  with  some  important  public  de- 
partment ;  but  he  always  evaded  the  subject,  and  said  he  was 
in  no  hurry  to  perform  a  task  which  he  detested. 

At  length  I  found  that  he  had  abandoned  all  further  idea  of 
acting  in  the  character  of  a  "  special  correspondent "  for  his 
own  paper,  resting  content  to  supply  himself  with  a  few  mis- 
cellaneous incidents  of  a  cursory  nature,  and  retaining  them 
until  he  should  be  seated  at  his  own  desk  at  Putney  Common, 
where  he  then  resided.  In  short,  he  was  blessed  with  so 
many  "aids  to  reflection"  and  enjoyment  in  his  own  English 
home  that  he.  could  not  brook  the  discomfort  of  writing  in 
"  strange  nooks  and  corners,"  without  the  accustomed  imple- 
ments of  his  calling,  and  far  removed  from  those  domestic  in- 
fluences which  he  often  confessed  quickened  his  impulses  and 
chastened  his  understanding.  The  work  he  had  embarked  in 
was  totally  unsuited  to  him,  and  it  was  really  grievous  to 
notice  the  expression  of  his  countenance,  as,  morning  after 
morning,  the  post  brought  him  a  letter  from  his  locum  tenens 
in  London,  Mr.  Frederick  Guest  Tomlins,  complaining  of  his 
shortcomings,  and  urging  him  to  return,  or  to  act  in  a  manner 
more  worthy  of  his  ambition  and  of  the  known  reputation  he 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  277 

bore.  He  felt  himself,  however,  in  the  position  of  an  irre- 
sponsible agent,  and  he  thought  it  would  have  been  just  as 
little  worthy  of  him  to  attempt  that  which  he  knew  he  could 
not  successfully  accomplish  as  to  neglect  the  duty  altogether ; 
but  at  the  same  time  he  was  reluctant  to  return  to  England 
until  he  had  been  absent  a  sufficient  time  to  show  that,  at 
least,  he  had  tried  to  fulfill  the  trust  reposed  in  him.  His 
plan,  therefore,  was  to  pass  the  morning  in  reading  the  French 
newspapers,  and  thus  laying  in  a  stock  of  material,  either  for 
his  paper  or  for  his  weekly  contributions  to  "  Punch,"  and  to 
devote  the  remainder  of  the  day  to  sauntering  about  the 
Boulevards,  choosing  a  restaurant  to  dine  at,  and  visiting  a 
theatre  in  the  evening. 

In  ordering  his  dinner  his  great  fancy  was  for  quelque  chose 
appttissante,  as  he  called  the  lighter  form  of  entrees,  and  a  bot- 
tle of  Tavel  —  the  latter  because  he  said  it  was  "the  French- 
man's port,"  and  it  was  lighter  and  dryer  than  our  own.  It 
must  be  confessed,  however,  that  the  bent  of  his  genius  did 
not  lie  in  the  direction  of  gastronomy ;  and  though  he  well 
knew  the  difference  between  a  gourmand  and  a  gourmet,  he 
had  not  the  skill  to  order  a  dinner  with  a  due  regard  to  econ- 
omy, either  in  reference  to  money  or  food,  and  the  result  was 
that  the  former  was  often  unnecessarily  expended,  and  the  lat- 
ter was  much  more  plentiful  than  rechercht.  He  had  every 
desire  to  vary  his  place  of  entertainment ;  but  if  he  could  not 
procure  his  favorite  Tavel  he  would  not  go  a  second  time  to  a 
restaurant  where  that  almost-exploded  wine  was  disregarded. 
Although  proud  to  be  thought  an  Englishman,  it  was  a  source 
of  annoyance  to  him  to  be  treated  as  one,  and  he  was  apt  to 
resent  as  an  indignity  any  allusion  to  his  being  of  the  family 
of  "John  Bull."  One  day  he  essayed  his  taste  and  skill  at 
the  Cafe*  Riche,  which  was  on  a  somewhat  more  extensive 
scale  than  the  restaurants  he  generally  patronized,  and  upon 
his  asking  for  the  carte  du  jour,  the  waiter  roused  his  anger 
to  a  high  pitch  by  saying,  "  //  y  a  du  bon  rosbif  aujourd'- 
hiii."  "  Don't  come  to  France  to  eat  roast  beef,"  he  curtly  re- 
plied :  "  Plenty  of  that  at  home."  And  he  never  dined  at  the 
Cafe*  Riche  again. 


2;8  GEORGE  HODDER. 

Thus  the  same  spirit  of  discontent  continued  to  pervade  his 
actions  during  the  few  remaining  days  of  his  sojourn  in  the 
French  metropolis  ;  and  it  was  by  no  means  decreased  as  the 
morning  of  his  departure  drew  near  ;  for  then  he  began  to  re- 
proach himself  for  not  having  delivered  his  letters  of  intro- 
duction. I  observed  that  his  mornings  were  often  disturbed 
by  visits  from  John  Ppole,  the  author  of  "  Paul  Pry,"  who  had 
for  many  years  been  living  in  Paris ;  and  although  Jerrold 
never  distinctly  told  me  the  object  of  his  seeking  him,  it  was 
evident  from  the  manner  of  the  latter,  and  from  a  few  broken 
sentences  he  muttered,  that  there  was  some  cause  for  coldness 
between  them.  "  Poor  Poole  !  "  he  exclaimed  one  day,  after 
receiving  a  visit  from  him  ;  "  he  has  not  made  the  best  of  his 
chances  in  life."  At  another  time  he  observed  that  Poole  was 
never  known  to  say  a  good  thing  ;  but  that  if  an  idea  struck 
him  in  society  he  would  "book  it  for  his  next  magazine  ar- 
ticle." Amongst  others  who  sought  Jerrold's  acquaintance  in 
Paris  was  the  Rev.  Francis  Mahony  ("  Father  Prout "),  and  I 
had  the  gratification  of  meeting  the  two  men  at  a  little  dinner- 
party at  the  residence  of  Mr.  Thomas  Frazer,1  the  correspond- 
ent of  the  "  Morning  Chronicle,"  on  the  Boulevard  des  Capu- 
cines.  Even  on  that  occasion  it  was  noticeable  that  Jerrold 
was  ill  at  ease,  and  was  not  much  disposed  to  talk  upon  the 
subject  which  at  that  period  naturally  absorbed  the  attention 
of  the  community.  Indeed,  he  constantly  reflected,  both  in 
society  and  when  alone,  that  his  visit  to  Paris  had  involved 
a  loss  of  time  and  money,  and  that,  on  his  return  home,  he 
should  not  receive  that  hearty  welcome  from  his  fellow-work- 
ers on  the  newspaper  which  his  public  position  would  other- 
wise have  led  him  to  expect.  When  the  morning  came  for  his 
departure  —  about  a  fortnight  after  his  arrival —  he  openly  ac- 
knowledged that  his  mission  to  Paris  had  been  a  failure  ;  and 
as  he  was  arranging  his  portmanteau,  he  took  therefrom  a 
small  packet,  and,  throwing  it  into  the  fire,  said,  "  There  are 
my  letters  of  introduction  !  " 

1  This  is  the  kind-hearted  man  alluded  to  by  Thackeray  in  his  Ballad  of  BottiUa- 
"  There 'i  laughing  Tom  is  laughing  yet." 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  279 

Although,  as  I  have  already  shown,  Jerrold's  character  at 
that  time  did  not  appear  in  a  light  quite  so  amiable  as  his 
friends  could  have  wished,  I.  had  many  a  teie-a-iete  with  him 
which  contributed  much  to  my  enjoyment,  for  Jerrold  never 
shone  to*  better  advantage  than  when  he  was  talking  worldly 
wisdom  to  those  who  were  glad  to  profit  by  what  he  taught 
them.  Indeed,  as  a  rule,  he  was  an  acceptable  monitor,  and 
did  not  give  his  advice  in  a  patronizing  or  dictatorial  spirit, 
but  seemed  to  make  himself  tolerably  sure  that  his  words 
would  at  least  be  cheerfully  received,  if  not,  perhaps,  fully 
acted  upon.  It  was  during  our  stay  in  Paris  that  he  said  some 
of  those  "  good  things  "  which  have  since  bestrewn  the  paths 
of  literature,  and  as  they  have  now  become  the  common  prop- 
erty of  the  reading  and  the  talking  world,  I  shall  avoid  the 
risk  of  repetition  by  quoting  only  one  or  two  of  his  bits  of 
wisdom,  which  might,  not  inaptly,  come  under  the  category  of 
"advice  to  young  men."  Talking  of  marriage,  he  said  he 
would  never  advise  a  man  to  choose  a  wife  on  account  of  her 
intellect  any  more  than  for  the  sake  of  her  money.  "  As  to 
myself,"  he  added,  "  since  I  have  been  married  I  have  never 
known  what  it  is  to  turn  down  my  own  socks."  Speaking  of 
young  authors  allowing  their  names  to  appear  amongst  the 
contributors  to  various  publications  at  one  and  the  same  time, 
instead  of  concentrating  their  energies  upon  some  work  of  an 
enduring  character,  he  said,  "  Don't  scatter  your  small  shot." 
In  allusion  to  the  vice  of  getting  into  debt,  he  remarked  that 
a  man  must  be  forgiven  for  procuring  meat  and  bread  upon 
credit,  "  but  he  has  no  right  to  do  this  sort  of  thing  in  the 
same  way"  (pointing  to  a  bottle  of  wine  which  stood  be- 
fore him).  On  my  telling  him  that  I  had  just  attempted  a 
little  story  in  verse,  and  that  I  should  be  glad  if  he  could  rec- 
ommend it  for  publication,  he  said,  "  Why  not  walk,  and  tell 
the  same  thing  in  prose  ? "  He  once  told  me  a  little  story, 
which,  as  it  seems  to  have  escaped  the  notice  of  those  who 
have  written  about  him,  although  it  may  possibly  be  known  in 
some  shape,  I  shall  introduce  here,  especially  as  Jerrold  used 
to  say  that  the  incident  came  within  his  own  experience.  A 


280  GEORGE  HODDER. 

passenger,  well-to-do  in  the  world,  had  fallen  overboard  at  sea, 
and  his  life  was  saved  by  an  Irish  sailor  who  jumped  in  after 
him.  As  a  reward  for  the  trifling  service  which  his  preserver 
had  rendered  him,  the  generous  passenger  presented  Paddy 
with  sixpence  !  Whereupon  the  sailor,  looking  him  full  in  the 
face,  and  scanning  him  from  head  to  foot  with  a  smile  of  su- 
preme contempt,  exclaimed,  in  a  rich  Hibernian  brogue,  "  Be 
jabers,  it  's  enough  !  " 

On  the  occasion  of  the  first  performance  of  Jerrold's  comedy 
of  "Time  Works  Wonders,"  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  occupy 
a  seat  in  his  private  box,  and  I  well  remember  his  feeling  of 
delight,  at  the  close,  when  he  contemplated  the  success  he  had 
achieved.  A  party  of  his  friends  had  arranged  to  sup  together 
at  the  Bedford  Hotel,  Covent  Garden,  and  as  we  walked  thither 
from  the  Haymarket  Theatre  I  offered  him  my  hearty  con- 
gratulations, for  I  had  never  witnessed  a  "first  night"  which 
was  more  fruitful  in  agreeable  results  than  that  of  "  Time 
Work  Wonders."  Arrived  at  the  door  of  the  hotel,  I  could 
not  help  repeating  the  gratification  I  felt  at  the  author's  well- 
merited  triumph,  when  Jerrold,  turning  his  eye  full  upon  me, 
and  smacking  his  chest  with  his  hand,  exclaimed,  with  a  degree 
of  exultation  which  was  most  natural  under  the  circumstances, 
"Yes  ;  and  here  's  the  little  man  that 's  done  it !  " 

"  Time  Works  Wonders  "  was  indeed  a  work  for  the  author 
to  be  proud  of,  for  we  have  had  no  piece  in  modern  times  so 
bristling  with  wit,  so  varied  in  character,  and,  withal,  so  inter- 
esting yet  simple  in  plot,  as  this  really  admirable  comedy. 
Why  it  should  so  long  have  remained  unrevived  is  a  question 
which  I  fear  involves  some  reflection  upon  those  of  our  man- 
agers who  are  guided  by  a  desire  to  encourage  the  "  legitimate 
drama  "  —  a  phrase  which,  I  take  it,  is  intended  to  signify  the 
drama  of  intellect,  as  contradistinguished  from  the  unhealthy 
creations  of  a  vitiated  taste. 

As  the  offspring  of  eminent  men  must  be  admitted  to  bear  a 
degree  of  interest  in  the  eyes  of  the  public  proportionate  to 
that  which  attaches  to  their  parents,  I  may  here  take  the 
opportunity  of  introducing  some  further  mention  of  Douglas 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  28 1 

Jerrold's  family,  my  object  being  to  show  that  he  was  keenly 
alive  to  the  necessity  for  seeing  his  children  occupy  a  favorable 
position  In  the  world.  Edmund  Douglas,  his  second  son, 
received  an  appointment  in  the  Treasury  from  Lord  John  Rus- 
sell, and  was  afterwards  transferred  to  an  office  in  the  Com- 
missariat. Thomas  Serle  Jerrold  (godson  of  Mr.  T.  J.  Serle, 
the  dramatist),  the  third  son,  was  placed  under  the  care  of 
Mr.  Paxton  (aftenvards  Sir  Joseph)  at  the  Duke  of  Devon- 
shire's estate  at  Chatsworth,  with  a  view  to  his  learning  the  art 
of  gardening;  and  it  was  during  young  Tom's  apprenticeship 
that  his  able  instructor  made  his  design  for  the  Great  Exhibi- 
tion Building  in  1851.  On  the  opening  of  the  Great  Northern 
Railway  to  that  part  of  the  world  where  Chatsworth  is  situated, 
I  was  instructed  by  the  editor  of  a  paper  with  which  I  was  then 
connected,  to  take  the  journey,  and  to  describe  such  objects  of 
interest  as  might  appear  on  the  route,  and  particularly  to  direct 
my  attention  to  the  beauties  of  the  Duke  of  Devonshire's  seat. 
I  placed  myself  under  the  guidance  of  Mr.  Paxton,  who 
received  me  with  great  courtesy,  and  after  pointing  out  to  me 
all  the  principal  charms  of  the  garden  grounds,  conducted  me 
at  length  to  a  spacious  conservatory  which  he  had  designed, 
and  which  was  then  approaching  completion.  It  was  built 
exclusively  of  iron  and  glass,  and  when  Mr.  Paxton  had 
described  the  improvements  it  embraced  over  other  structures 
of  the  like  kind,  he  said  he  was  then  finishing  a  design  upon 
the  same  principle  for  the  contemplated  building  in  Hyde 
Park.  Having  led  me  up  a  steep  flight  of  stairs  into  an  office 
in  the  garden,  where  several  young  men  were  engaged  in  pre- 
paring architectural  plans,  he  called  my  attention  to  the  draw- 
ing he  had  spoken  of,  and  said,  "That's  the  design  I  intend 
for  the  Great  Exhibition."  —  "  But  surely  you  're  too  late,"  I 
observed  ;  "  for  the  designs  have  already  been  sent  in,  and  are 
now  being  exhibited."  "  I  don't  mind  that,"  he  replied,  "they 
must  have  this.  Look  at  the  economy  of  it,  and  consider  how 
short  a  time  will  be  required  to  erect  the  building."  The  re- 
sult is  far  too  widely  known  to  need  another  word  from  me  ;  but 
I  have  recalled  the  circumstance  because  the  newspaper  article 


282  GEORGE  H 'ODDER. 

I  wrote  at  the  time  contained  the  first  public  mention  that  was 
ever  made  of  the  Great  Exhibition  building  of  1851. 

It  was  in  the  following  year  that  Edmund  Jerrold  received 
his  appointment  in  the  Commissariat,  and  as  he  was  under 
orders  to  proceed  to  Canada,  his  father  and  mother  gave  a 
little  ball  in  his  honor  on  the  eve  of  his  departure.  Being  a 
young  gentleman  of  somewhat  graceful  proportions,  and  not  a 
little  proud  to  exhibit  himself  to  the  best  advantage,  he  wore 
his  uniform  on  the  occasion,  and  was  of  course  a  very  conspic- 
uous object  during  the  evening.  In  short,  his  glittering  ap- 
pearance was  almost  calculated  to  monopolize  the  attention  of 
the  lady  visitors  ;  and  his  father  being  anxious  that  he  should 
distinguish  himself  in  some  way  beyond  that  of  displaying  his 
elegant  costume,  hoped,  when  his  health  was  proposed,  as  it 
was  in  due  course,  after  supper,  that  he  might  make  a  speech 
which  would  be  considered  "  an  honor  to  his  family."  When 
Edmund  rose,  champagne-glass  in  hand,  to  express  his  ac- 
knowledgments, he  seemed  so  full  of  confidence,  and  pre- 
sented so  bold  a  front  to  the  assembled  guests,  many  of  whom 
were  standing  in  clusters  around  the  room,  that  his  father 
must  have  thought  he  had  a  son  of  whose  oratorial  powers  he 
should  doubtless  one  day  be  proud.  The  young  officer,  how- 
ever, had  scarcely  got  beyond  the  words  "  Ladies  and  gentle- 
men, for  the  honor  you  have  done  me,"  ere  he  suddenly  col- 
lapsed, and  resumed  his  seat  !  Never  was  astonishment  more 
strangely  depicted  upon  the  human  countenance  than  it  was 
upon  that  of  Jerrold  at  this  singular  fiasco  on  the  part  of  his 
hopeful  son.  He  was  literally  dumbfounded,  but  at  length  he 
exploded  with  a  sort  of  cachinnatory  splutter  —  not  to  call  it 
laughter  —  and  looking  round  the  room,  in  doubt  as  to  where 
he  should  fix  his  gaze,  he  murmured  "  Well /"  Amongst 
the  guests  on  that  evening  was  Dr.  Wright,  Jerrold's  medical 
attendant,  and  that  gentleman  had  selected  as  his  partner  in 
a  dance  Miss  Mary  Jerrold,  our  host's  youngest  daughter. 
The  Doctor  being  "  more  than  common  tall,"  and  the  young 
lady  being  rather  short,  but  not  of  very  minute  proportions, 
their  combined  appearance  produced  a  somewhat  ludicrous 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  283 

effect  as  they  waltzed  round  the  salon,  and  Jerrold,  suddenly 
catching  a  glimpse  of  them,  exclaimed,  "  Hollo  !  there  's  a  mile 
dancing  with  a  mile-stone  !  " 

An  interesting  period  in  the  life  of  Douglas  Jerrold  was  the 
fiftieth  anniversary  of  his  birthday,  which  he  resolved  to  cele- 
brate with  all  the  honors  due  to  such  an  occasion.  The  day 
was  the  3d  January,  1853,  and  Jerrold  received  at  his  dinner- 
table,  in  the  Circus  Road,  St.  John's  Wood,  a  large  number  of 
his  most  intimate  friends,  including  the  proprietors  and  con- 
tributors to  "  Punch  "  —  Mr.  Charles  Knight  (whom  he  held 
in  very  high  esteem),  Mr.  Hepworth  Dixon,  Mr.  E.  H.  Baily, 
R.  A.,  the  eminent  sculptor,  and  a  few  others,  including  my- 
self, who  were  better  known  to  friendship  than  to  fame.  Jer- 
rold was  in  remarkably  good  health  and  spirits,  and  treated 
the  allusions  that  were  made  to  the  occasion  of  the  meeting  in 
atone  of  hilarity  which  rendered  the  question  as  to  "ages" 
matter  of  jocular  rather  than  sentimental  import.  The  even- 
ing was  indeed  one  of  the  merriest  I  ever  passed  in  the  society 
of  Douglas  Jerrold,  and  so  gratified  was  Mr.  Baily,  who  was 
the  Nestor  of  the  party  —  being,  indeed,  in  his  seventy-fifth 
year  —  that  he  said  he  should  gladly  commemorate  the  event 
by  making  a  bust  of  Jerrold,  and  presenting  a  cast  of  it  to  every 
one  present.  The  bust  was  executed  in  marble,  and  is  now  in 
the  possession  of  the  family,  who  not  only  regard  it  as  one  of 
the  most  poetically  conceived  works  which  modern  sculpture 
has  produced,  but  seldom  speak  of  it  without  calling  to  mind 
the  interesting  occasion  which  gave  rise  to  it.  So  admirable 
is  it  as  a  likeness,  and  so  graceful  as  a  composition,  that  I  am 
constrained  to  say,  in  common  with  others  similarly  situated, 
that  I  was  sadly  disappointed  that  Mr.  Baily  was  unable  to 
carry  out  his  promise  to  its  full  extent. 

In  the  month  of  May,  1857,  Jerrold  was  stricken  with  his 
mortal  illness  ;  and  saddening  indeed  was  the  effect  upon  his 
club-mates  and  his  dearest  friends,  as  day  by  day  they  found 
their  hopes  for  his  recovery  becoming  fainter  and  fainter. 
Every  conceivable  attention  was  paid  to  him,  both  by  the 
members  of  his  household  and  by  the  physicians  —  Dr.  Cleve- 


284  GEORGE  HODDER. 

land,  Dr.  H.  G.  Wright,  and  Dr.  Quain  —  to  whom  his  case 
was  intrusted  ;  but  he  expired  in  the  beginning  of  June.  By 
a  melancholy  coincidence,  I  chanced  to  arrive  at  his  cham- 
ber-door at  the  very  moment  that  the  family  were  leaving  the 
room  after  seeing  him  breathe  his  last ;  and  Mrs.  Jerrold  hav- 
ing begged  me  to  enter,  I  was  much  impressed  by  the  picture 
that  presented  itself.  All  had  quitted  the  room  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Mr.  Copeland,  the  brother-in-law  of  Douglas  Jer- 
rold, then  the  proprietor  of  the  Theatre  Royal,  and  the  Royal 
Amphitheatre,  Liverpool.  That  gentleman  was  leaning. over 
the  body  of  his  departed  friend  and  relative,  and  looking  at 
his  countenance  with  the  most  profound  attention,  while  he 
struggled  in  vain  to  conceal  the  grief  that  oppressed  him. 
For  some  minutes  Mr.  Copeland  and  I  remained  the  sole 
watchers  over  the  corpse,  and  when,  after  giving  vent  to  the 
feelings  which  literally  overpowered  me,  I  at  last  contrived  to 
tear  myself  from  the  house,  I  could  not  possibly  dismiss  the 
reflection  from  my  mind  that  the  place  which  Douglas  Jerrold 
had  so  many  years  held  in  my  memory  and  esteem  was  never 
likely  to  be  supplied. 

The  funeral  of  my  lamented  friend  took  place  at  Norwood 
Cemetery,  on  a  bright  morning  in  the  month  of  June,  and  the 
spot  chosen  for  his  interment  was  in  close  proximity  to  the 
grave  of  his  boy-friend  and  literary  associate,  Laman  Blan- 
chard.  Those  who  were  present  on  that  mournful  occasion 
—  and  they  were  indeed  numerous  —  can  never  forget  the  ex- 
traordinary interest  which  attached  to  the  event.  Long  before 
the  time  fixed  for  the  arrival  of  the  funeral  cortege,  the  burial- 
ground  was  absolutely  thronged  with  gentlemen  celebrated  in 
literature,  the  drama,  and  fine  arts.  Indeed,  it  would  have 
been  difficult  to  mention  the  name  of  any  person  well  known 
to  those  three  professions  who  was  not  there  to  take  part  in 
the  generous  tribute  that  was  being  paid  to  one  who  had,  by 
the  unaided  force  of  his  genius  and  will,  successfully  climbed 

"The  iteep  where  Fame's  proud  temple  shines  afar." 

The  coffin  was  of  plain  oak,  and  was  borne  upon  an  open  car, 


DOUGLAS  JERROLD.  285 

on  each  side  of  which  were  the  initials  "  D.  J."  In  the  mourn- 
ing coaches  which  followed  it  were  seated  Mr.  Blanchard  Jer- 
rold  and  Mr.  Thomas  Serle  Jerrold  (Douglas  Jerrold's  eldest 
and  youngest  sons),  Mr.  Copeland  (his  brother-in-law),  Mr. 
Henry  Mayhew  (his  son-in-law),  and  the  three  medical  gentle- 
men who  had  attended  the  deceased  in  his  last  illness.  The 
pall-bearers  were  Mr.  Charles  Dickens,  Mr.  W.  M.  Thack- 
eray, Mr.  Charles  Knight,  Mr.  Horace  Mayhew,  Mr.  Mark 
Lemon,  Mr.  Monckton  Milnes,  M.  P.  (now  Lord  Houghton), 
and  Mr.  Bradbury  (of  the  firm  of  Bradbury  and  Evans),  all  of 
whom  wore  on  their  arms  crape  rosettes  embroided  with  the 
initials  "  D.  J."  As  the  coffin  was  being  conveyed  to  the 
chapel,  some  hundreds  of  gentlemen  followed  in  procession, 
and  amongst  these  should  be  mentioned  the  names  of  John 
Leech,  Shirley  Brooks,  John  Tenniel,  Tom  Taylor,  Percival 
Leigh,  Samuel  Lucas  (at  one  period  reviewer  of  books  in  the 
"Times"),  W.  Bayle  Bernard,  John  Baldwin  Buckstone,  T. 
Sydney  Cooper,  R.  A.,  George  Cruikshank,  Peter  Cunning- 
ham, Augustus  Egg,  R.  A.,  John  Forster,  James  Hannay. 
William  Hazlitt,  J.  A.  Heraud,  Charles  Kenney,  E.  Landells, 
Charles  Landseer,  R.  A.,  Thomas  and  George  Landseer,  E. 
Lloyd  (the  proprietor  of  "  Lloyd's  Weekly  Newspaper,"  which 
bore  the  name  of  Douglas  Jerrold  as  editor  for  the  last  five 
years  of  his  life),  Daniel  Maclise,  R.  A.,  Kenny  Meadows, 
John  Oxenford,  Sir  Joseph  Paxton,  Albert  Smith,  E.  M.  Ward, 
R.  A.,  Benjamin  Webster,  Erasmus  Wilson,  Forbes  Winslow, 
E.  Moxon,  etc.  A  glance  at  these  names,  which  form  but  a 
very  small  proportion  of  the  vast  assembly  gathered  together 
at  the  spot,  will  furnish  a  conspicuous  proof  of  the  various  in- 
terests and  pursuits  represented  on  that  sad  morning  ;  and  it 
may  be  safely  affirmed  that  few  have  been  the  funeral  cere- 
monies where  those  who  attended  them  were  influenced  by 
feelings  of  more  unfeigned  regret  than  were  manifested  at  the 
obsequies  of  Douglas  Jerrold. 


286  GEORGE  IfODDER. 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  "PUNCH." 

The  projector  of  "  Punch  "  was  unquestionably  Henry  May- 
hew,  and,  although  the  fact  may  not  be  regarded  by  its  thou- 
sands of  readers  as  a  matter  of  very  grave  importance,  I  shall 
offer  no  excuse  for  briefly  dwelling  upon  it,  because  doubts 
have  been  expressed,  not  only  amongst  the  uninformed,  but 
amongst  those  who  might  be  supposed  to  be  acquainted  with 
the  subject,  as  to  the  individual  to  whom  the  merit  is  justly 
due.  The  question  has  repeatedly  been  brought  upon  the 
tapis  in  every-day  conversation  ;  and  it  has  been  quite  amus- 
ing to  note  the  self-confident  manner  in  which  quidnuncs  and 
that  aggressive  class  of  people  who  may  be  called  the  know- 
everything  section  of  the  community,  have  described  circum- 
stantially all  the  particulars  of  the  "  identical  meeting  "  at  a 
tavern  near  Drury  Lane,  at  which  "  Punch "  was  started  ! 
The  starting  of  "  Punch  "  was  undoubtedly  the  result  of  many 
meetings  ;  but  its  origin  was  the  result  of  Mr.  Mayhew's  per- 
sonal cogitations,  as  already  stated  ;  and,  not  to  say  it  vain-glo- 
riously,  it  happened  that  I  was  the  first  individual  to  whom  he 
mentioned  the  idea,  simply  because  I  was  the  first  individual  he 
saw  (that  is,  in  whom  he  could  be  expected  to  confide)  on  the 
day  he  disclosed  it  to  his  friends. 

Henry  Mayhew  was  then  (the  summer  of  1841)  living  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Charing  Cross  ;  and  as  I  chanced  to  be  a 
near  neighbor  of  his,  an  arrangement  had  been  come  to  by 
which  I  should  visit  him  every  morning  ;  and  I  well  remember 
that,  for  several  weeks,  we  commenced  the  day  at  an  early 
hour,  in  order  that  we  might  study  "  Euclid  "  together.  One 
morning,  on  entering  his  sitting-room,  I  found  Mayhew  in  un- 
usually high  glee  (although  his  spirits  were  seldom  at  a  low 
ebb),  and  I  instinctively  came  to  the  conclusion  that,  as  he 
was  constantly  bent  upon  the  discovery  of  some  "new  notion," 
he  was  now  about  to  exhibit  his  creative  power  under  circum- 
stances of  an  exceptionally  propitious  character.  "  I  've  a 
splendid  idea ! "  he  exclaimed,  with  an  impulsive  eagerness 
which  showed  that  he  had  been  anxiously  wishing  for  the 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  "PUNCH."  287 

opportunity  of  opening  his  mind  upon  the  subject.  "  What, 
another!"  I  exclaimed.  "  Delighted  to  hear  it  !  What  is  it?" 
—  or  words  to  the  like  effect.  "A  new  comical  periodical," 
said  Mayhew.  "  You  know  the  French  '  Charivari,'  don't 
you  ? "  "  Yes,"  was  the  reply.  "  Well,  my  idea  is  to  start 
a  similar  thing,  called  "  Punch,  or  the  London  Charivari." 
"  Good  ! "  said  I.  And  we  forthwith  proceeded  to  draw  up 
a  list  of  the  names  of  artists  and  contributors  whom  Mayhew 
suggested  should  be  asked  to  associate  themselves  with  the  un- 
dertaking. The  name  of  Gilbert  a  Beckett  (an  old  friend  and 
collaborateur  of  Mayhew's  in  his  works  of  a  humorous  and 
satirical  character)  was  the  first  on  the  list,  and  then  followed 
those  of  Douglas  Jerrold,  Mark  Lemon  (with  whom  Henry 
Mayhew  was  then  in  daily  communication),  Sterling  Coyne, 
W.  H.  Wills,  H.  P.  Grattan,  and  others.  Suddenly,  he  or  I,  or 
both  (but  it  is  by  no  means  material  to  the  issue,  as  the  lawyers 
have  it),  remarked  that  there  was  a  clever  fellow  rejoicing  in 
the  nont  de  plume  of  "  Paul  Prendergast,"  who  had  recently 
shown  much  force  of  humor  in  "  The  Comic  Latin  Grammar, 
and  who  was  then  engaged  in  writing  "  The  Comic  English 
Grammar."  To  ascertain  his  baptismal  name  was  the  first 
step  necessary;  and  we  soon  found  it  to  be  Percival  Leigh, 
and  that  he  was  living  in  Chapel  Place,  Oxford  Street. 

It  svas  arranged  that  Mayhew  should  write  to  Douglas  Jer- 
rold, and  that  I  should  assist  him  in  obtaining  the  cooperation 
of  the  chosen  writers  and  artists  to  whom  we  could  insure  easy 
access  ;  but,  above  all,  I  was  to  seek  out  "  Paul  Prendergast," 
and  offer  him  such  terms  as  might  tempt  him  to  enroll  his 
name  among  the  contributors.  I  had  no  difficulty  in  seeing 
him  (though  he  was  busily  occupied  at  his  desk  at  the  time), 
and  on  my  telling  him  the  object  of  my  mission,  he  very  pru- 
dently said  he  had  certain  scruples  about  embarking  in  a  pub- 
lication without  knowing  something  of  its  characteristics,  and 
that  he  should  be  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  of  glancing  at  a 
copy  before  he  could  undertake  to  write  for  it.  It  could  not  be 
disputed  that  this  somewhat  uncommon  piece  of  caution  was 
perfectly  reasonable  ;  but  when  I  took  my  departure  I  felt  fully 


288  GEORGE  HO  ODER. 

assured  in  my  own  mind  that,  as  Mr.  Leigh's  reputation  was 
yet  to  be  established,  and  as  his  literary  capacity  appeared 
especially  to  indicate  a  quaintness  of  humor  which  must  find  a 
convenient  ^outlet  for  its  expression,  his  name  would  ere  long 
be  included  among  the  adherents  to  "  Punch."  Meanwhile, 
he  conferred  with  his  friend  John  Leech,  who  had  illustrated 
his  "  Comic  Latin  Grammar,"  and  the  result  was  that  "  Paul 
Prendergast "  and  John  Leech  made  their  joint  obeisance  to 
Mr.  Punch  in  the  fourth  number  of  his  work,  in  an  article 
called  "  Foreign  Affairs "  —  the  letter-press  by  the  former, 
and  the  pictorial  design  (representing  types  of  continental 
character,  as  seen  in  the  neighborhood  of  Leicester  Square) 
by  the  latter. 

But  our  immediate  business  is  with  the  initiation  of  the 
weekly  periodical,  some  particulars  of  the  birth  of  which  can- 
not be  otherwise  than  interesting,  if  not  important,  to  a  large 
portion  of  the  public,  hundreds  of  whom  have  been  familiar 
with  the  work  from  its  very  commencement.  Not  much  time 
had  elapsed  ere  all  preliminaries  were  settled,  and  the  contents 
of  the  first  number  agreed  upon.  Archibald  Henning  (l°ng 
since  passed  away)  was  to  be  the  chief  illustrator,  and  Eben- 
ezer  Landells  was  to  have  the  superintendence  of  the  engrav- 
ing department.  The  principal  contributors  to  No.  i  were 
Gilbert  a  Beckett,  Sterling  Coyne,  W.  H.  Wills,  H.  P.  Grat- 
tan,  Mark  Lemon,  and  Henry  Mayhew,  the  last  two  being  joint 
editors.  The  frontispiece  on  the  "  wrapper "  was  drawn  by 
Henning,  as  was  also  the  large  cartoon  (which,  as  it  was  the 
period  of  a  general  election,  represented  a  group  of  "  Candi- 
dates under  different  heads");  and  the  miscellaneous  "  small 
cuts  "  were  executed,  if  I  remember  rightly,  by  an  artist  named 
Brine.  The  printer  was  Mr.  Joseph  Last,  then  of  Crane  Court, 
Fleet  Street,  who,  together  with  Mr.  Landells,  was  a  share- 
holder in  the  speculation.  The  original  prospectus  of  the 
work  was  as  follows  :  — 


THE  ORIGIN  Of-   "  PUNCH."  289 

WILL   BE  OUT  SHORTLY,1 

And  continued  every  Saturday, 

(Sizt  of  the  Atktnaum,) 

PRICE  THREEPENCE. 

A  NEW  WORK  OF  WHIT  AND  WHIM, 

Embellished  with  Cuts  and  Caricatures. 
TO  BE  CALLED 

PUNCH; 

OR, 

THE  LONDON  CHARIVARI. 

This  Guffawgraph  is  intended  to  form  a  refuge  for  destitute 
wit  —  an  asylum  for  the  thousands  of  orphan  jokes  —  the 
superannuated  Joe  Millers  —  the  millions  of  perishing  puns, 
which  are  now  wandering  about  without  so  much  as  a  shelf  to 
rest  upon  !  It  will  also  be  devoted  to  the  emancipation  of  the 
Jew  d'esprits  all  over  the  world,  and  the  naturalization  of  those 
alien  JONATHANS,  whose  adherence  to  the  truth  has  forced 
them  to  emigrate  from  their  native  land. 

The  proprietors  feel  that  the  "  eyes  of  Europe  "  will  be  upon 
them  —  that  every  visible  animal,  like  our  political  patriots,  will 
look  out  for 

No.  I. 

"  PUNCH  "  will  have  the  honor  of  making  his  first  appear- 
ance in  this  character  on  SATURDAY,  JULY  17,  1841  ;  and  will 
continue,  from  week  to  week,  to  offer  to  the  world  all  the  fun 
to  be  found  in  his  own  and  the  following  heads  :  — 

POLITICS.  —  "  Punch  "  has  no  party  prejudices  ;  he  is  Con- 
servative in  his  opposition  to  Fantoccini  and  political  puppets, 
but  a  progressive  Whig  in  his  love  of  small  change  and  a  re- 
peal of  the  union  with  public  Judies. 

1  Under  this  line  was  a  small  wood-cut,  representing  Lord  Melbourne,  Lord  John 
Russell,  and  Lord  Morpeth,  who  were  then  in  office  (the  first  being  Prime  Minister), 
but  were  expected  to  be  "  out  shortly." 
19 


GEORGE   HODDEK. 

FASHIONS.  —  This  department  will  be  conducted  by  Mrs. 
J.  Punch,  whose  extensive  acquaintance  with  the  elite  of  the 
areas  will  enable  her  to  furnish  the  earliest  information  of  the 
Movements  of  the  Fashionable  World. 

POLICE.  —  This  portion  of  the  work  will  be  under  the  direc- 
tion of  an  experienced  nobleman  — a  regular  attendant  at  the 
various  offices  —  who,  from  a  strong  attachment  to  "  Punch," 
will  be  in  a  position  to  supply  exclusive  reports. 

REVIEWS.  —  To  render  this  branch  of  the  periodical  as 
perfect  as  possible,  arrangements  have  been  made  to  secure 
the  critical  assistance  of  John  Ketch,  Esq.,  who,  from  tlie 
mildness  of  the  law,  and  the  congenial  character  of  modern  lit- 
erature, with  his  early  associations,  has  been  induced  to  un- 
dertake its  execution. 

FINE  ARTS.  —  Anxious  to  do  justice  to  native  talent,  the 
criticisms  upon  Painting,  Sculpture,  etc.,  will  be  confided  to 
one  of  the  most  popular  artists  of  the  day  —  "  Punch's  "  own 
immortal  scene-painter. 

Music  AND  THE  DRAMA.  —  These  will  be  amongst  the 
most  prominent  features  of  the  work.  The  Musical  Notices 
will  be  written  by  the  gentleman  who  plays  the  mouth-organ, 
assisted  by  the  professors  of  the  drum  and  cymbals.  "  Punch  " 
himself  \\\\\  DO  the  Drama. 

SPORTING.  —  A  prophet  has  been  engaged  !  He  will  fore- 
tell not  only  the  winners  of  each  race,  but  also  the  "  VATES  "  l 
and  colors  of  the  riders. 

The  FACETIAE  will  be  contributed  by  the  members  of  the 
following  learned  bodies  :  — 

The  Court  of  Common  Council  and  the  Zoological  Society. 

The  Temperance  Association  and  the  Waterproofing  Com- 
pany. 

The  College  of  Physicians  and  the  Highgate  Cemetery. 

The  Dramatic  Authors'  and  the  Mendicity  Societies. 

The  Beefsteak  Club  and  the  Anti-Dry  Rot  Company. 

1  The  name  assumed  by  a  Mr.  Harrison,  at  that  time  the  sporting  correspondent 
of*  daily  paper. 


THE   ORIGIN  Ofi'  "PUNCH."  291 

Together  with  original  humorous  and  satirical  articles,  in 
verse  and  prose,  from  all  the 

FUNNY  DOGS  WITH  COMIC  TALES. 

LONDON : 

PUBLISHED  FOR  THE  PROPRIETORS  BY  R.  BRYANT, 

AT   "  PUNCH'S  "   OFFICE,   3,   WELLINGTON   STREET,   STRAND  ; 

Where  all  communications  (prepaid)  for  the  Editors  shotild 

be  forwarded. 

At  length  came  the  day  of  publication.  It  was  Saturday, 
July  17,  1841  (for  the  system  of  issuing  periodical  works  in  an- 
ticipation of  the  dafe  was  not  then  the  prevailing  practice  as 
it  has  since  become),  and  Mr.  Mayhew's  thoughts  and  atten- 
tion were  directed,  with  inevitable  anxiety,  to  the  publishing 
office,  from  a  desire  to  ascertain  the  progress  of  the  "  circula- 
tion." If  the  aforesaid  Mr.  Bryant  be  still  extant,  he  will, 
doubtless,  remember  how  frequently  and  eagerly  Mr.  May- 
hew,  or  myself  —  sometimes  both—  applied  to  him  to  know 
the  state  of  affairs  in  his  all-important  department.  In  short, 
it  may  be  frankly  stated  that  Mayhew  and  I  walked  up  and 
down  that  part  of  the  Strand  leading  from  Wellington  Street 
towards  St.  Clement's  Church  the  greater  part  of  the  after- 
noon, discussing  the  prospects  of  the  new  undertaking,  and 
the  former  congratulating  himself  upon  the  success  it  was 
likely  to  achieve,  as  we  continued  to  obtain  fresh  intelligence 
in  respect  to  the  number  of  copies  disposed  of. 

As  to  the  ultimate  success  of  the  work,  it  is  only  necessary 
for  me  to  say  that  it  struggled  on  manfully  and  cleverly  for 
many  months  (its  momentary  dissolution  being  daily  pre- 
dicted by  alarmists  and  "  Job's-comforters"),  but  from  the 
unfortunate  obstacle  caused  by  the  want  of  capital,  its  pro- 
moters fell  into  difficulties,  and,  in  order  to  save  it  from  bank- 
ruptcy, the  property  was  disposed  of  to  Messrs.  Bradbury  and 
Evans,  the  present  printers  and  proprietors,  for  a  sum  little 
exceeding  the  amount  of  Mr.  Punch's  liabilities,  Mr.  Landells 
still  holding  a  small  share,  which,  however,  was  soon  bought 
up  by  the  new  authorities,  and  Mr.  Lemon  retaining  the  ed- 


2Q2  GEORGE   HODDER. 

itorship,  with  Mr.  Mayhew  (who  had  yielded  that  post  to  him) 
as  his  auxiliary  in  the  discharge  of  the  somewhat  essential 
duty  of  "  thinking  and  suggesting." 

From  the  above  statement  it  is  pretty  clear  that  "  Punch  " 
was  not  projected  at  a  tavern  near  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  or  at 
a  tavern  near  anywhere  else  :  that  nobody  but  Henry  May- 
hew  was  the  actual  originator  of  it  ;  and  that  the  earliest  con- 
tributors to  it  did  not  comprise  one  half,  or  even  one  fourth, 
of  the  names  which  those,  who  delight  in  relating  all  they  do 
not  know,  have  been  pleased  to  number  among  its  fathers  and 
godfathers  and  its  multitude  of  literary  offspring. 

The  following  lines,  which  appeared  in  "^unch  "  in  the  month 
of  January,  1843,  and  were  written  by  Percival  Leigh,  are  amply 
sufficient  to  indicate,  at  least  to  those  who  know  something  of 
Greek  and  Latin,  the  locality  of  Mr.  Punch's  symposia,  and 
even  the  name  of  the  hostelry  where  they  took  place  :  — 

SODALITAS  PUNCHICA,  SEU  CLUBBUS  NOSTER. 
POEMA  MACARONICUM,  VEL  ANGLO-GK^CO-CANINO-LATINUM. 

Sum  quidam /0//y  dags,  Saturday  qui  nocte  frequentant 
Antiqui  "irt^avov,  qui  Mat  prope  mcema  I) run, 
BovAopcfot  saccos  cum  frog  distendere  rather, 
Indulgere  jocis,  necnon  Baccho  atque  tobacco  ; 
In  mundo  tales  non/elloivt  ante  fuere: 
Magnammum  herouni  celebrabo  carmine  laudes, 
Posthac  illustres  ut  vivant  omne  per  zvum. 

Altior  cV  ST€<f>aixji  locus  est,  snug  easy  recessus  ; 
Hie  quarttrt  fixeie  suos,  conclave  teneiit  hie. 
Hie  dapidus  cumulata  gemit  m.ikogany  mensa. 
Pascuntur  variis  ;  roast  beef  cum  pudtiing  of  Yorkshire 
Interdum  ;  sometimes  epulis  queis  nomen  agrestes 
Boiled  leg  of  mutton  and  trimmings  imposuere. 
Hie  double  A'haurit,  Barclay  and  Perkins' i  Hie ; 
Nee  desunt  mixtis  qui  sese  polibus  implent 
Quos  "offnojf"1  omnes  ccnsuescunt  dicere  waiters. 

Postquam  exempta  fames  grubbp,  mappatque  remote, 
Pro  cyathii  clamant,  qui  goes  sermnne  vocantur 
Vulgari.  of  wkisky,  rum,  fin,  and  brandy,  »ed  et  sunt ; 
Coelicolum  qui  fiincfi  ("  eiroribui  absque  *')  liquore 
Gaudent ;  et  pauci  vino  quod  prxbet  Oporto, 
Quod  certi  Uack-i'.raf  dicuut  MitJrnomine  Grati. 
Hauttibu*  his////,  communit  et  adjiciuntur 
Skaf,  Reditut,  Cubz  Silvx.  Ckeroots  et  Havynn*. 


THE   ORIGIN  OP  "PUNCH."  293 

"  Festinate  viri,"  bawls  one,  "  nunc  ludile  verbis:  " 
Alter  "  Foemineum  Sexum"  propinat,  et  "  Hurrah  .'" 
Respondent,  po'-haits:  cor.cusso  plausibus  nmni. 
Nunc  similes  vcteri  versantur  ivinky  lepores 
Omnibus,  exiguus  nee,  Jingo  teste,  tumultus 
Exoritur,  quoniam  summa  nituntur  opum  vi 
Rivales  aAAot   tt>p-sawyeis  (/nfxci-ai  aAAun'. 

Est  genus  ingenui  lusfls  quod  nomine  Burk.ug 
Notum  est,  vel  Burko,  qui  claudere  ctincta  solebat 
Ora  olim  eloquio,  pugi  i  vel  lorsitan  isto 
Deaf  Un,  vel  Burko  pueros  qui  Burxit ;  at  illud 
Plausibus  ant  fictis  joculatorem  excipiendo, 
Atit  bothering  aliquid  referentem,  constat,  amicum. 
Hoc  pai  vo  fxcutitur  multus  conamine  risus, 

Nomina  magnorum  referam  uunc  pauca  virorum : 
Marcus  et  Hemicus,1  I'uHthi  duo  lumina  magru, 
(H'Juicks  hie  Aristotelem,  Sophoclem  brown  uialloppeth  ille) 
In  clubbum  adveniunt ;  Juvenalis  *  et  advenit  acer 
Qui  veiuti  I'addyuiliackfor  love  contundit  amicos  ; 
Ingentesque  animos  non  parvo  in  corpora  versans 
Tullius:3  et  Matutini  qui  Sidus  Heraldi  est 
Georgms  ;*  Alberlus  Magnus  ;B  vesterque  Poeta." 

Prsesldet  his  Nesior,7  qui  tempore  vixit  in  Anna?, 
Creditur  et  vidisse  Japhet,  non  youngster  at  ullus 
In  chaff,  audaci  certamine,  vinceret  ilium. 
Ille  jocos  mollit  dictis,  et  pectora  mulcet, 
Ni  facial,  tumblers,  etgoes,  et  pocula pewier, 
Q'.iippe  aliorum  alii  jactarent  forsan  in  aures. 

An  important  accession  to  the  pictorial  strength  of  "  Punch  " 
was  realized  in  the  introduction  of  Mr.  H.  G.  Hine,  who  made 
his  entree  in  the  pages  of  that  periodical  in  the  month  of 
September  following  the  date  of  its  commencement.  Mr.  Hine 
had  been  known  to  Mr.  Landells  through  his  illustrations  to 
the  "  Cosmorama "  and  other  publications  ;  and  although  he 
was  professedly  a  landscape-painter,  and  had  no  more  ex- 
perience of  drawing  on  the  wood  than  a  stanch  teetotaler  has 
of  drawing  wine  from  it,  he  was  at  once  thrust  into  a  prominent 
position  as  an  artistic  contributor  to  "  Punch's"  columns.  His 
chief  speciality  consisted  in  the  grotesque  ideas  which  he  de- 
veloped, with  much  facility,  in  the  smr.ll  cuts  ;  but  he  soon 

1  Mark  Lemon  and  Henry  Mayhew.  J  Douglas  Jerrold. 

s  J    H.  Tu'ly,  the  composer. 

4  G.  Hodder  (at  that  time  connected  with  the  Morning  H  -raid  newspaper). 
*  Albert  Smith.  •  Percival  Leigh.  7  Henry  Baylis. 


294  GEORGE  HODDEK. 

proved  himself  capable  of  greater  things,  and  it  is  not  a  little 
remarkable  that  he  executed  the  whole  of  the  illustrations  to 
"  Punch's  "  first  Almanack,  with  the  exception  of  the  border 
pieces,  which  were  the  work  of  Hablot  Browne.  Mr.  Hine 
has  long  since  abandoned  the  duties  of  a  comic  artist  for  the 
more  congenial  pursuit  to  which  he  originally  intended  to 
devote  his  talents,  and  he  is  now  a  conspicuous  member  of 
the  Institute  of  Painters  in  Water  Colors  — his  charming  rep- 
resentations of  downy  scenery,  dotted  with  sheep,  and  re- 
lieved by  little  villages  which  would  seem  to  have  dropped 
into  pleasant  valleys  designed  expressly  to  receive  them,  be- 
ing always  amongst  the  chief  attractions  of  its  annual  ex- 
hibitions. 

Mr.  Birket  Foster,  another  "knight  of  the  brush,"  rather 
than  of  the  pencil,  also  made  certain  contributions  —  though 
not  many —  to  the  early  numbers  of  "  Punch  ;  "  but  they  were 
of  a  character  which  showed  him  to  be  eminently  wwfitted  for 
the  task  of  delineating  facetia.  He  was,  however,  a  pupil  of 
Mr.  Landells  at  the  time,  and  it  was  natural  that  the  latter 
should  test  his  qualities  by  every  means  at  his  command  ;  but 
Mr.  Foster  did  not  suffer  many  years  to  elapse  ere  his  name 
became  famous  in  a  very  different  branch  of  art  to  that  which 
"  Punch  "  would  have  marked  out  for  him,  and  I  have  referred 
to  him  in  this  place  merely  by  way  of  showing  the  diversity  of 
artists  whose  works  have  ornamented  the  pages  of  the  favorite 
periodical.  Among  the  earlier  illustrators,  besides  those  al- 
ready mentioned,  were  Alfred  Crowquill,  Newman,  Lee,  Ha- 
merton,  John  Gilbert,  William  Harvey,  and  Kenny  Meadows. 
The  first  frontispiece,  as  I  have  stated,  was  by  Archibald  Hen- 
ning ;  the  second  was  by  Harvey  ;  the  third  by  Gilbert ;  the 
fourth  by  Meadows  —  the  practice  during  the  first  few  years  of 
"  Punch's  "  existence  being  to  commence  a  new  wrapper  with 
each  succeeding  volume ;  until  at  length  Richard  Doyle  ap- 
peared upon  the  scene,  and  it  was  thought  that  the  grotesque, 
yet  graceful  contribution  which  he  supplied  was  far  too  good 
to  be  thrown  aside  at  the  expiration  of  six  months.  The  pro- 
prietors of  the  work,  therefore,  very  wisely  caused  Mr.  Doyle's 


THE   ORIGIN  OF  "  PUNCH:'1  295 

frontispiece  to  be  stereotyped,  and  it  now  remains,  with  cer- 
tain modifications,  the  permanent  tableau  on  the  outer  covering 
of  "Punch." 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  above  enumeration  of  names  that, 
in  the  early  stages  of  Mr.  Punch's  career,  he  gave  encourage- 
ment to  artists  who  evinced  no  qualifications  for  humorous 
art ;  but  the  frequent  changes  he  made  led  to  a  state  of  things 
which  showed  that  he  was  only  desirous  to  place  the  right 
man  in  the  right  place.  It  certainly  could  not  be  said  that 
William  Harvey,  the  graceful  and  poetical  illustrator  of 
"  Knight's  Pictorial  Shakspere,"  was  ever  intended  for  a 
"  Punch  "  artist ;  and  as  to  John  Gilbert  (also  an  able  illus- 
trator of  the  great  poet),  so  impressed  was  Douglas  Jerrold 
with  the  solid  character  of  his  academic  forms  and  imposing 
outlines  that  he  exclaimed,  "  We  don't  want  Rubens  on 
'  Punch ' !  "  When  Mr.  Tenniel  first  associated  himself  with 
the  popular  periodical,  it  was  generally  thought  that  his  abil- 
ities were  of  too  classic  an  order  for  the  duty  he  had  under- 
taken ;  for  it  will  be  remembered  that  this  gentleman  executed 
one  of  the  cartoons  for  the  Houses  of  Parliament  (an  allegory 
of  Justice),  which  gained  a  prize  at  the  exhibition  in  Westmin- 
ster Hall ;  and  that  he  once  represented  on  the  walls  of  the 
Royal  Academy  a  striking  picture  of  "  Adam  and  Eve  in  Para- 
dise." Such  un-Ptenc/t-]\ke  subjects  as  these,  and  such  un- 
Leech-\\\i^  treatment  as  they  required  and  received,  were  by 
no  means  suggestive  of  comicality  in  the  artist ;  but  Mr.  Ten- 
niel had  too  much  confidence  in  the  pictorial  strength  he  pos- 
sessed to  feel  that  he  need  limit  himself  to  a  particular 
sphere  ;  and  hence  he  persevered  with  his  pencil,  until  in  time 
he  became  inoculated,  as  it  were,  with  a  sense  of  humor  which 
has  not  been  subordinate  to,  but  has  served  to  stimulate,  his 
graphic  powers.  It  may  be  remarked  that  Mr.  Tenniel's  in- 
troduction to  "  Punch  "  was  in  consequence  of  Mr.  Doyle's 
withdrawal  from  the  scene  of  his  many  successes  ;  and  it  is" 
no  secret  to  state  that,  by  the  course  adopted  by  the  latter,  he 
sacrificed  a  handsome  income,  rather  than  remain  attached  to 
a  publication  which  had  satirized  the  religion  he  professed. 


296  GEORGE   HODDER. 

HORACE  MAYHEW. 

As  I  have  incidentally  mentioned  the  name  of  Horace  May- 
hew,  I  may  here  state  that  I  made  his  acquaintance,  through 
his  brother  Henry,  some  two  years  before  the  date  of 
"  Punch's  "  birth,  at  which  latter  period  he  was  absent  on  a 
tour  in  Germany.  It  chanced,  however,  that  he  returned  to 
this  country  before  the  first  volume  was  completed,  and  in  the 
course  of  a  week  or  two  he  becartie  an  acknowledged  contrib- 
utor to  the  work,  and  was  afterwards  appointed  sub-editor. 
That  appointment  he  held  for  some  considerable  time,  and  in 
the  discharge  of  his  duties  was  a  medium  of  communication 
between  the  writers  and  the  artists  ;  but  the  office  was  event- 
ually abolished  as  unnecessary,  and  has  never  since  been 
filled  up.  Horace  Mayhew's  close  connection  with  "  Punch  " 
brought  him  to  educate  his  mind  for  the  particular  form  of 
literature  to  which  that  periodical  belongs,  and  he  was  not 
only  the  suggester  of  many  subjects  (as,  for  example,  "  The 
Female  Robinson  Crusoe  ")  which  were  handed  over  to  the 
treatment  of  others  more  experienced  than  himself,  but  was 
the  author  of  several  popular  works  of  a  humorous  kind,  includ- 
ing "  Letters  Left  at  the  Pastrycook's  ;  "  "  Model  Men," 
"  Model  Women,"  and  "  Model  Couples  ;  "  "  Change  for  a 
Shilling,"  etc.,  together  with  a  remarkable  piece  of  graphic 
drollery,  illustrating  "  The  Tooth-ache  "  in  a  variety  of  stages, 
from  the  commencement  of  the  disorder  to  the  final  extraction 
of  the  offending  member.  This  was  published  in  the  elongated 
.roller  form,  and  the  designs,  as  well  as  the  descriptive  letter- 
press at  the  foot  of  each,  were  supplied  by  the  author  himself  ; 
but  were  afterwards  drawn  upon  wood  by  the  great  George 
Cruikshank,  who,  however,  declared  that  his  rendering  of  the 
subject,  although  it  might  be  somewhat  more  artistic,  rather 
detracted  than  otherwise  from  the  singular  merit  of  the  orig- 
inals. As  I  have  been  from  the  period  of  my  first  knowledge 
of  Horace  Mayhew  on  terms  of  uninterrupted  friendship  with 
him,  it  would  not  befit  me  to  descant  upon  his  characteristics, 
or  to  recall  a  succession  of  incidents  connected  with  our  con- 
stant intercourse  — 


HORACE  MAYHEW.  297 

"  What  things  have  we  seen 

Done  at  the !  heard  words  that  have  been 

t  So  nimble,  and  so  full  of  subtle  flame, 

As  if  that  every  one  from  whence  they  came 
Had  meant  to  put  his  whole  wit  in  a  jest, 
And  had  resolved  to  live  a  fool  the  rest 
Of  his  dull  life !  " 

Mayhew  will  not  fail  to  remember  how  he  and  I,  as  "the 
boys"  (so  called)  of  the  party  assembled  round  Mr.  Punch's 
dinner- table  at  the  Saturday  gatherings,  before  they  were  con- 
fined exclusively  to  the  staff  of  accredited  contributors,  were 
frequently  among  the  last  to  quit  the  agreeable  scene  ;  and 
how  upon  taking  our  departure,  with  something  like  a  feeling 
of  self-reproach  at  having  been  tempted  to  remain  beyond  the 
hour  when  Prudence  usually  goes  to  bed,  Douglas  Jerrold  has 
consoled  us  with  a  favorite  quotation  of  his  from  Gainsborough, 
"  Never  mind.  '  We  are  all  going  to  heaven,  and  Vandyck  is  of 
the  company  ; ' "  *  and  how,  when  dining  with  Jerrold  at  his 
house  on  the  following  day,  and  reminding  him  of  some  of  the 
flashes  which  his  wit  had  sent  forth,  the  latter  has  exclaimed, 
laughingly  and  half-incredulously,  "  No  !  did  I  say  that  ? " 
But  I  will  refrain  from  putting  to  the  test  Horace  Mayhew's 
remembrance  of  the  "  things  we  have  seen,"  lest  the  retro- 
spect should  bring  with  it  the  reflection  that  they  and  the 
actors  in  them  have  too  long  passed  away  ;  and  moreover  I 
might,  peradventure,  advert  to  subjects  on  which  his  impres- 
sions might  not  entirely  harmonize  with  my  own.  I  cannot, 
however,  let  this  opportunity  pass  without  recording  my  un- 
feigned sense  of  his  kindly  and  affectionate  nature,  and  of  the 
esteem  in  which  he  is  held  by  all  who  know  him.  In  proof  of 
his  friendly  disposition,  I  will  here  quote  from  a  letter  which  I 
received  from  him  on  the  occasion  of  that  happy  event  of  my 
life  which  has  already  been  mentioned  here  :  — 

"  I  have  sent  to  your  house  two  little  presents  for  Agnes  — 
if  she  will  be  kind  enough  to  accept  them.  Assure  her  they 
are  sent  with  the  strongest  wishes  for  her  future  happiness. 

1  An  exclamation  made  by  Gainsborough  on  his  death-bed,  when  he  was  visited  bf 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 


298  GEORGE  HODDEK. 

"  She  must  look  upon  the  lamp  [a  very  handsome  specimen 
of  the  '  moderator ']  as  an  emblem  of  the  light  and  cheerful- 
ness that  she  will  shed  (with  proper  trimming,  of  course) 
around  you  ;  and  the  little  Punch  and  Judy  figures  she  must 
take  up  kindly  in  her  arms  as  pretty  images  of  affection  from 

"  Her  sincere  friend." 

THE  MAYHEW  FAMILY. 

I  think  this  may  be  regarded  as  a  fitting  opportunity  for  the 
introduction  of  the  names  of  three  other  members  of  the  May- 
hew  family  —  Edward,  Julius,  and  Augustus  ;  and  I  may  here 
at  once  state  that  of  the  four  brothers  to  whom  I  have  now  al- 
luded, those  who  have  appeared  before  the  public  under  the 
designation  of  "  The  Brothers  Mayhew,"  are  Henry  and  Au- 
gustus, who  were  the  joint  authors  of  "The  Good  Genius  that 
turned  Everything  into  Gold,"  "  The  Magic  of  Kindness," 
"  The  Greatest  Plague  of  Life,"  "  The  Adventures  of  a  Young 
Monkey,"  etc.  Edward,  the  eldest  of  the  four,  who  in  the 
early  part  of  his  career  achieved  many  successes  by  his  dra- 
matic productions  and  by  his  general  contributions  to  period- 
ical literature,  was  for  some  time  the  "  Fine  Arts  "  critic  of  the 
"  Morning  Post,"  and  was  in  other  ways  associated  with  jour- 
nalism. Finding,  however,  that  the  pursuit  of  letters  was  not 
calculated  to  secure  him  that  permanent  position  for  public 
usefulness  to  which  he  aspired,  he  formed  the  manly  resolu- 
tion, at  the  age  of  thirty-five,  to  study  the  profession  of  a  vet- 
erinary surgeon,  and  in  the  course  of  an  almost  incredibly 
short  space  of  time,  he  obtained  a  professorship  at  the  col- 
lege. Having  thus  acquired  a  new  experience,  and  having 
still  retained  his  literary  taste,  he  published  a  little  work  on 
the  "  Management  of  the  Dog,"  which  soon  became  a  prac- 
tical text-book.  In  process  of  time  he  brought  his  newly-ac- 
quired knowledge  to  bear  upon  the  treatment  of  the  horse  ; 
and  issued  an  elaborate  work,  called  "The  Illustrated  Horse- 
Doctor,"  which  was  followed  by  a  kindred  production,  under 
the  title  of  "  The  Illustrated  Stable  Management."  Both 
these  books  proved  him  to  be  a  most  valuable  authority  upon 


THE  MA  YHEW  FA  MIL  Y.  299 

the  habits,  diseases,  and  characteristics  of  horses  ;  and  it  is  not 
a  little  remarkable  that  during  the  time  he  was  preparing  them, 
and  for  some  years  afterwards,  he  was  confined  to  his  room  by 
a  paralytic  affection  which  rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to 
walk  ;  but  his  energy  and  perseverance  never  forsook  him, 
and  so  well  had  he  stored  his  mind  with  all  that  was  essential 
to  him  in  the  task  he  had  undertaken,  that  he  supplied  the 
great  majority  of  the  illustrations,  as  well  as  the  letter-press. 
It  happened,  by  the  purest  accident,  that  "  The  Illustrated 
Stable  Management "  came  into  my  hands  for  review  in  a 
morning  newspaper,  and  Edward  Mayhew,  learning  from  one 
of  his  brothers  that  the  notice  of  the  book  was  written  by  me, 
addressed  me  a  letter,  in  which  he  said  — 

"  I  know  how  much  I  am  indebted  to  your  good  feeling  for 
the  sentiments  you  have  expressed  concerning  my  book,  and 
as  an  acknowledgment  of  the  obligation,  which,  believe  me,  I 
am  sincerely  alive  to,  will  you  allow  me  to  offer  you  the  in- 
closed note  ? 1  I  should  not  have  imposed  on  you  the  trouble 
which  it  necessitates  ;  but  being  absent  from  London,  circum  - 
stances  compel  me  to  trespass  on  your  good-nature.  I  feel, 
while  making  this  offer,  I  am  presenting  you  with  that  which 
must  be  of  small  value  to  you  ;  but  will  you  kindly  accept  the 
gift  as  an  emblem  of  gratitude  ? 

"  I  have  a  pretty  place  down  here,  .in  a  pretty  spot.2  Tr.iins 
run  cheap  during  the  autumn.  Should  you  ever  feel  disposed 
for  a  week  of  cool,  moist  atmosphere,  pray  remember  that 
both  I  and  Mrs.  Mayhew  will  endeavor  to  make  you  comfort- 
able." 

Poor  Edward  Mayhew  !  His  physical  strength  was  origi- 
nally proportionate  to  his  mental  power  ;  but  for  a  period  of 
fifteen  years  he  was  compelled  to  fight  the  battle  of  life  with 
brains  alone  ;  and  this  he  did  with  such  success  that  he  has 

1  To  Messrs.  Allen,  the  publishers,  requesting  them  to  hand  me  a  copy  of  the 
work.  • 

*  The  neighborhood  of  Torquay. 


300  GEORGE  HODDER. 

gained  for  himself  an  enduring  name.  The  circumstances  of 
his  death  were  such  as  to  show  that  it  indeed  behooves  us  "to 
bear  the  ills  we  have  "  with  philosophic  resignation.  As  al- 
ready observed,  Edward  Mayhew  was  deprived  of  the  use  of 
his  limbs  for  fifteen  years.  At  the  expiration  of  that  time  he 
suddenly  rose  from  his  chair,  the  wheels  of  which  had  afforded 
him  the  only  means  of  locomotion,  — and  walked  !  The  effect 
upon  the  nervous  system  was  apparently  too  powerful  for  a 
constitution  weakened  by  the  very  severe  trial  to  which  it  had 
been  subjected ;  and  in  the  course  of  ten  days  he  ceased  to 
be! 

In  the  designs  for  an  improved  form  of  stables,  several  of 
which  are  included  in  the  "  Illustrated  Stable  Management," 
Edward  Mayhew  was  ably  assisted  by  his  brother  Julius,  who, 
being  educated  for  an  architect,  and  having  always  cultivated 
a  taste  for  art,  especially  in  regard  to  those  principles  which 
demand  a  perfect  knowledge  of  perspective,  was  essentially 
qualified  for  the  task  ;  and  a  reference  to  the  book  will  at  once 
testify  that,  although  never  assuming  the  dignity  of  a  pro- 
fessed artist,  he  skillfully  and  effectually  carried  out  the  views 
and  intentions  of  the  author.  As,  however,  he  has  never 
aspired  to  be  a  "public  character,"  I  forbear  to  give  to  his 
name  a  prominence  which  I  know  he  would  immediately  re- 
pel ;  and  yet  I  must  allude,  for  one  instant  only,  to  the  pleas- 
ure I  have  many  a  time  derived  from  his  society  on  certain 
"tramping'  expeditions  with  him  and  his  brother  Augustus, 
when,  in  our  walks  through  the  country,  we  have  left  the  cares 
of  the  world  behind  us,  and  have  made  ourselves  the  happiest 
of  mortals,  by  appreciating  to  the  full  the  humblest  means  of 
enjoyment. 

As  to  Augustus  Mayhew  (always  familiarly  called  "  Gus  "), 
the  youngest  branch  of  the  tree,  one  would  suppose  that  he 
never  knew  what  care  was,  so  jocund  and  light-hearted  is  he 
invariably  found  to  be  in  the  midst  of  his  friends.  He  can  be 
serious,  very  serious,  when  any  strong  sense  of  injury,  either 
to  himself  or  to  an  esteemed  companion,  or  to  any  social  cause 
which  he  has  warmly  espoused,  has  t.ikc-n  firm  possession  of 


THE  MAYHEW  FAMILY.  30 1 

him  ;  but  his  unbounded  good-humor  and  world-defying  friend- 
liness have  inevitably  pointed  him  out  as  a  man  to  whom  For- 
tune's buffets  and  rewards  would  seem  to  be  alike  indifferent. 
As  an  artist,  he  is  little  known,  though  in  his  delineations  of 
every-day  scenes  and  characters  he  has  betrayed  much  graphic 
and  perceptive  power,  but  as  a  writer  he  has  abundantly 
shown,  in  his  "  Faces  for  Fortunes,"  his  "  Finest  Girl  in 
Bloomsbury,"  and  "  Paved  with  Gold "  (commenced  in  the 
form  of  a  serial,  in  conjunction  with  his  brother  Henry,  who, 
however,  retired  from  it  after  the  publication  of  the  first  two 
or  three  numbers),  that  he  unites  the  elements  of  .a  graceful 
fancy  and  a  broad  sense  of  the  ludicrous  in  a  manner  which  is 
not  often  seen.  But  it  is  in  society  rather  than  in  books  that 
his  light  shines  brightest  (as  has  been  said  of  many  men  of 
literary  distinction),  for  in  the  task  of  writing  he  is  necessarily 
under  some  restraint,  lest  ideas  should  find  their  way  to  the 
public  eye  which  are  only  adapted  to  the  private  ear ;  whereas 
in  conversation  he  is  not  compelled  to  "  weigh  his  words  be- 
fore he  gives  them  breath  ;  "  and  hence  he  is  enabled  to  in- 
dulge those  peculiar  modes  of  thought  and  expression  which 
are  amusing  from  their  reckless  originality,  as  well  as  from  the 
keen  insight  they  display  into  the  follies  and  impostures  of  so- 
ciety. The  fertility  of  his  invention  in  the  use  of  adjectives 
and  similes,  to  give  breadth  and  color  to  a  daring  conception, 
is  conspicuously  seen  in  his  account  of  a  prize-fight  in  "  Paved 
with  Gold,"  which  contains  a  sufficient  number  of  suggestions 
to  enable  a  writer  in  "  Bell's  Life  "  to  improve  and  strengthen 
his  eccentric  vocabulary.  As  an  example  of  the  grotesque 
roughness  of  his  humor  I  may  mention  an  incident  which  has 
often  been  alluded  to  by  those  who  witnessed  it,  as  affording 
a  remarkable  specimen  of  his  peculiar  characteristics.  An  al- 
tercation had  occurred  between  Augustus's  friends  and  an  in- 
solent, domineering  sort  of  fellow,  who  had  threatened  per- 
sonal chastisement  to  his  opponent,  and  seemed  inclined  to 
put  his  resolve  into  execution  ;  whereupon  the  stalwart  May- 
hew,  advancing  towards  him  with  clenched  fist  and  distend- 
ing his  capacious  form  to  its  fullest  proportions,  exclaimed. 


302  GEORGE  HODDEK. 

**  By  gad,  s!r !  dare  to  lay  one  finger  upon  my  friend,  and  in 
five  minutes  your  wife  and  children  shall  not  know  you  ! "' 
Whether  or  not  the  individual  whose  facial  outlines  were  thus 
vehemently  menaced  was  blessed  with  a  wife  and  children  it 
did  not  appear,  nor  was  it  a  question  which  entered  for  one 
moment  into  Augustus's  consideration,  but  the  magnanimous 
character  of  the  phrase  had  the  desired  effect,  for  the  lion 
immediately  ceased  roaring,  and  the  object  of  his  wrath  went 
away  with  a  whole  skin. 

Before  quitting  this  part  of  my  recollections  I  should  state, 
il  it  be  npt  already  understood,  that  to  Henry  Mayhew  I  am 
indebted  for  my  first  introduction  to  the  society  of  men  of 
letters  ;  and  that  long  since  I  became  known  to  him,  a  change 
has  come  over  his  literary  aspirations  ;  for  the  ability  he  then 
displayed,  as  a  writer  of  farces,  and  as  a  contributor  to  comic 
periodicals,  he  subsequently  diverted  into  a  widely  different 
channel.  This  change  has  been  exemplified  in  a  series  of 
lectures,  called  "  What  to  Teach,  and  How  to  Teach  it,"  and 
in  his  two  valuable  books,  "  London  Labor  and  the  London 
Poor,"  and  "The  Great  World  of  London"  —  works  wlm  h 
have  rendered  more  lasting  service  to  the  community  and  to 
himself  than  could  possibly  be  achieved  by  any  exercise  of 
fun  or  fiction,  even  from  the  most  fertile  brain. 

I  am  sure  I  need  offer  no  apology  for  the  allusions  I  have 
made  to  the  Mayhew  family  (a  family  better  known  to  fame 
than  many  writers  of  loftier  pretensions),  for  they  are  well 
aware  of  the  kindly  spirit  in  which  every  word  is  intended  ; 
and  this  volume,  however  imperfect  it  may  be,  would  be  infi- 
nitely more  so  were  1  to  omit  all  mention  of  such  intimate  allies 
and  friends. 

It  is  interesting  to  note,  in  following  the  gradations  of  time, 
what  singular  transitions  have  taken  place  in  the  minds  of 
men  devoted  to  literary  pursuits.  When  Douglas  Jerrold 
wrote  "  Black-eyed  Susan,"  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
believe  that  he  would  ever  become  the  editor  of  a  popular 
journal,  such  as  "  Lloyd's  Weekly  Newspaper "  (a  position 
which  he  occupied  for  five  years,  to  the  period  of  his  death) ; 


JOHN  LEECH.  303 

or  when  Thackeray  penned  "  The  Yellow-plush  Correspond- 
ence "  in  "  Eraser's  Magazine,"  that  he  would  in  after-days 
"  witch  the  world  "  as  the  writer  of  "  Esmond,"  and  "  The 
Newcomes  ; "  or  when  Henry  Mayhew  produced  his  farce  of 
"  The  Wandering  Minstrel,"  that  he  would  eventually  make 
himself  known  as  an  authority  on  social  statistics,  as  he  has 
done  in  his  "  London  Labor  and  the  London  Poor." 

JOHN  LEECH. 

Valuable  contributors  to  the  amusements  of  the  table,  as 
they  were  to  the  pages  of  "  Punch,"  were  John  Leech,  Albert 
Smith,  and  Kenny  Meadows  —  the  two  former  having  been  on 
terms  of  intimacy  long  before  that  work  was  established  ;  but 
my  desire  is  not  so  much  to  speak  of  them  in  reference  to 
their  doings  for  "  Punch,"  as  to  indicate  what  manner  of  men 
they  were  in  relation  to  the  "  small  sweet  courtesies  "  of  life. 
It  was  through  John  Leech's  friendly  interces'sion  that  I  first 
became  a  contributor  to  "  Bentley's  Miscellany  "  (in  the  year 
1848),  to  which  publication  he  was  then  a  fixed  adherent.  I 
had  written  a  little  story,  and  on  my  submitting  it  to  Leech's 
opinion,  he  was  kind  enough  to  tell  the  authorities,  with  the 
utmost  earnestness,  that,  if  the  paper  should  be  accepted,  he 
would  gladly  illustrate  it.  The  result  was  that  it  was  pub- 
lished, with  an  admirable  etching  by  Leech,  and  was  followed 
the  next  month  by  another,  which  also  was  touched  by  his 
artistic  hand.  Leech's  friendliness  and  good-fellowship  were 
well  known  to  those  who  understood  his  reserved,  unostenta- 
tious nature  ;  and  having  adduced  one  proof  of  those  quali- 
ties in  him,  I  may  fitly  mention  another,  though  I  honestly 
wish  it  had  reference  to  somebody  other  than  my  perpetually 
recurring  self.  In  the  illustrations  to  a  little  book,  called 
"  Sketches  of  Life  and  Character,  taken  at  the  Police  Court, 
Bow  Street,"  he  rendered  me  most  essential  service  by  the 
exercise  of  his  inimitable  pencil ;  and  I  know  that,  in  like 
manner,  he  lent  a  "  helping  hand  "  (in  more  than  one  sense  of 
the  term)  to  many  a  young  aspirant  in  whom  he  felt  an  interest, 
and  who  appreciated  the  importance  of  securing  the  aid  of  his 
valuable  name. 


304  GEORGE  HODDKK. 

In  the  "  Punch  "  times  to  which  I  have  adverted,  it  was  the 
habit  of  Albert  Smith  to  call  him  familiarly  and  brusquely 
"Jack,"  while  his  still  more  intimate  friend,  Percival  Leigli, 
addressed  him  as  "John,"  or  "Leech,"  and  this  was  so  re- 
pugnant to  Jerrold's  taste  and  feelings,  that  at  length  he 
exploded  with  the  following  pertinent  query :  "  Leech,  how 
long  is  it  necessary  for  a  man  to  know  you  before  he  may  call 
you  Jack  f "  No  reply ;  but  if  my  recollection  serves  me, 
"Jack  "  was  sounded  in  our  ears  much  less  frequently  on  sub- 
sequent occasions. 

Among  the  many  little  domestic  gatherings  to  which  the 
meetings  of  the  "  Punch  "  contributors  gave  rise,  none  were 
more  agreeable  or  more  memorable  than  the  dinner-parties  at 
John  Leech's  house  —  first  at  Powis  Place,  and  afterwards  at 
Notting  Hill  and  Kensington.  In  one  notable  instance  within 
my  recollection,  Leech  had  invited  some  ten  or  more  gentle- 
men, consisting  chiefly  of  his  fellow-laborers  in  the  establish- 
ment of  Mr.  Punch,  to  dine  with  him  in  Powis  Place,  and  he 
had  engaged  for  the  occasion  the  services  of  an  extra  attend- 
ant, whose  ordinary  occupation  was  not  that  of  the  traditional 
"  greengrocer,"  but  that  of  a  parish  clerk.  The  guests  were 
assembled  in  the  drawing-room,  selon  le  regtt,  preparatory  to 
the  banquet ;  and  it  was  at  length  observed  that  there  was  an 
unusual  delay  in  announcing  the  dinner.  This  was  all  the 
more  noticeable,  because  John  Leech's  household  arrange- 
ments were  generally  conducted  upon  the  best  principles  of 
order  and  regularity  ;  and  the  guests  were  one  and  all  in  such 
high  intellectual  vigor,  and  so  well  prepared  to  enjoy  "  the 
feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of  soul,"  that  they  began  to  fear 
they  should  exhaust  their  stock  of  mental  ammunition  in  a 
succession  of  skirmishes  before  the  evening's  war  began. 
Whether  the  parish  clerk  had  disconcerted  the  cook  by  the 
solemnity  of  his  presence,  or  whether  the  latter,  being  of  a 
serious  turn  of  mind,  was  afflicted  with  a  tender  sensation 
which  upset  her  culinary  calculations,  it  was  never  clearly  as- 
certained ;  but  there  could  be  little  doubt  that  there  was 
something  not  quite  right  between  the  kitchen  and  the  dining- 


SIR  HENRY  WEBB,  305 

room.  After  a  somewhat  significant  pause,  however,  a  solemn 
figure,  attired  in  black,  and  wearing  a  white  neckerchief  of 
most  orthodox  character  and  proportions  (in  a  clerical  point  of 
view),  appeared  in  the  room,  and  in  a  style  of  elocution  which 
would  have  well  befitted  his  calling  in  the  church,  gave  the 
welcome  announcement,  "  The  dinner  is  on  the  table  !  " 
"Amen!"  cried  the  assembled  guests,  with  corresponding 
solemnity  ;  and  one  and  all  descended  to  the  dining-room, 
tittering  at  the  comically  doleful  manner  in  which  so  impor- 
tant a  preliminary  to  an  enlivening  entertainment  had  been 
carried  into  effect. 

John  Leech  possessed  among  his  many  excellent  qualities, 
that  of  a  fine  bass  voice  ;  and  the  gentlemen  of  the  "  Punch  " 
conclave  will  remember  how  often,  in  the  midst  of  their  rejoic- 
ings, he  diverted  their  thoughts  from  the  humorous  to  matters 
of  more  serious  moment,  by  singing  Barry  Cornwall's  song, 
"  King  Death  was  a  rare  old  fellow."  On  one  occasion, 
when  he  had  sung  this  song  with  even  more  than  his  usual 
vigor,  Douglas  Jerrold  exclaimed,  "  I  say,  Leech,  if  you  had 
the  same  opportunity  of  exercising  your  voice  as  you  have 
of  using  your  pencil,  how  it  would  draw  !  " 

SIR  HENRY  WEBB. 

John  Leech  used  to  tell  an  amusing  anecdote  of  Sir  Henry 
Webb,  whose  tall  military  figure  and  aristocratic  head  were  at 
one  time  as  familiar  in  the  stalls  of  the  theatre,  especially  on 
"  first  nights,"  as  were  the  rubicund  countenances  of  Lord 
Adolphus  Fitzclarence  and  the  late  Sir  George  Wombwell  in 
the  omnibus-box  at  the  Italian  Opera  House  in  the  Hay- 
market.  Some  one  had  informed  Sir  Henry  that  a  terrible 
murder  had  just  taken  place  in  the  metropolis,  and  that  the 
culprit  had  not  yet  been  apprehended.  Sir  Henry  appeared,  or 
affected  to  be,  deeply  interested  in  the  matter  ;  and  at  once 
proceeded  to  make  inquiries,  his  deep,  heavy  voice  giving  due 
solemnity  to  the  questions  he  put.  "  Dear  me  !  another  mur- 
der !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  and  what  sort  of  murder  ?  "  Answer 
—  "A  poor  girl  shot  by  her  sweetheart.  "  Dear  me  !  dear 
20 


306  GEORGE  HODDEK. 

me  ! "  said  the  distressed  gentleman.  "  Girl  shot  by  her 
sweetheart  !  Dreadful  !  dreadful !  And  when  did  it  take 
place?"  Answer — "Yesterday  morning."  Sir  Henry  — 
"  God  bless  me  !  Yesterday  morning  !  Is  it  possible  !  " 
Answer  —  "  True  ;  the  girl  was  murdered  yesterday  morning, 
and  by  a  fellow  who  was  supposed  to  be  her  lover."  Sir 
Henry  —  "  Dear  me  !  dear  me  !  very  shocking,  indeed  !  And 
at  what  time  yesterday  morning  ?  "  Answer  —  "  Between  six 
and  seven  o'clock."  Sir  Henry  —  "Gracious  goodness!  Be- 
tween six  and  seven  o'clock  !  What  an  early  hour !  Very 
awful  !  very  awful !  And  what  was  the  cause  of  the  murder  ?  ' 
Answer  —  "  Jealousy."  Sir  Henry  —  "  Jealousy  !  Heaven 
defend  us  !  Horrible  indeed  !  Jealousy  !  And  what  was  the 
girl's  name  ?  "  Answer  —  "  Martha  Jones."  Sir  Henry  — 
"  Dear  me  !  dear  me  !  Martha  Jones  !  More  and  more 
shocking  !  And  the  murderer,  what  was  his  name  ? "  An- 
swer—  "  Philip  Brown."  Sir  Henry  —  "  Philip  Brown  !  God 
bless  me  !  Philip  Brown  !  this  is  bad  indeed  !  Well,  well, 
well !  Martha  Jones  shot  by  Philip  Brown  !  And  where  was 
the  murder  committed?"  Answer — "In  Rosamond  Street, 
Clerkenwell."  Sir  Henry  —  "Great  Heavens  !  In  Rosamond 
Street,  Clerkenwell  !  How  very  extraordinary  !  God  bless 
me  !  In  Rosamond  Street,  Clerkenwell !  Then  -we  must  bear  it 
as  well  as  ive  can  !  "  The  locality  was  too  much  for  his  weak 
nerves  ;  but  Sir  Henry  partook  of  a  grand  supper  immediately 
afterwards,  and  on  the  following  morning  he  had  forgotten 
all  about  poor  Martha  Jones  and  Rosamond  Street,  Clerken- 
well. 

ALBERT  SMITH. 

Albert  Smith's  connection  with  "  Punch  "  arose  from  the 
fact  of  his  being  known  as  a  successful  writer  in  a  comic  pe- 
riodical, called  the  "  Cosmorama,"  then  in  course  of  publica- 
tion under  the  auspices  of  Mr.  Last,  the  printer  ;  and  his  first 
contributions  to  the  new  work  consisted  of  "The  Physiology 
of  the  London  Medical  Student  "  (which,  however,  had  already 
been  written,  in  brief,  by  Paul  Prendergast,  in  "  The  Heads  of 
the  People  ").  He  continued  for  a  long  time  to  be  a  zealous 


ALBERT  SMITH.  307 

and  valuable  member  of  the  literary  staff,  and  certainly  wrote 
many  of  the  most  entertaining  descriptions  of  English  social 
life  which  appeared  in  "  Punch's  "  columns  at  a  period  when 
the  contents  were  better  adapted  to  the  million  than  they  have 
been  in  later  days.  But  it  was  more  particularly  in  regard  to 
the  "  Illuminated  Magazine  "  and  "  Bentley's  Miscellany  " 
that  I  came  in  contact  with  Albert  Smith,  and  he  was  always 
found  to  be  a  writer  on  whose  promises  editors  and  publishers 
could  implicitly  rely.  He  was  a  most  frank  and  agreeable 
companion  among  those  whose  idiosyncrasies  he  relished  ; 
and  the  following  letters  will  show  that  he  could  be  as  kind 
and  friendly  as  he  was  frank  and  cheerful.  The  first  refers  to 
the  period  when  I  was  about  to  visit  Paris  at  the  time  of  the 
revolution,  and  Albert  Smith  had  promised  to  get  me  a  letter 
of  introduction  from  Charles  Kenney  to  Jules  Janin,  the  dra- 
matic feuilletoniste  of  the  "Journal  des  De"bats  ;  "  the  second 
is  an  answer  to  a  note  I  had  sent  him,  asking  him  to  contrib- 
ute an  article  to,  I  think,  the  "  Illuminated  Magazine,"  upon 
the  subject  of  Chamouni,  which  then  occupied  a  great  deal  of 
his  time ;  and  the  ostensible  object  of  the  third  (addressed  to 
me  when  I  was  at  Boulogne)  was  to  express  his  regret  that  he 
could  not  give  me  an  opportunity  of  supplying  one  of  the  pa- 
pers to  "  Gavarni  in  London,"  an  ephemeral  affair,  of  which 
he  was  the  editor. 

"  MY  DEAR  GEORGE,  —  In  case  I  do  not  see  you,  I  inclose 
Kenney's  letter  of  introduction  (for  you)  to  Jules  Janin.  I 
think  the  number  is  20  [Rue  Vaugirard],  but  if  not,  any 
one  in  the  neighborhood  will  tell  you.  It  is  close  to  the 
Odeon,  and  near  my  old  home,  '  en  dtudiant.1  Now  to  my 
own  business.  I  have  put  in  a  letter  for  Markwell,1  which  you 
will  perhaps  be  good  enough  to  give  him  ;  and  also  a  copy  of 
'  Tadpole  ; '  and  a  letter  I  will  thank  you  very  much  to  deliver. 
The  family  live  at  Capecure,  just  over  the  bridge.  You  cross 
the  bridge,  turn  to  the  right,  and  then  it  is  the  second  house 

1  William  Markwell,  a  much  respected  wine  merchant,  and  formerly  well  known 
for  the  interest  he  took  in  dramatic  literature. 


308  GEORGE"  HODDER. 

to  your  left.  Altogether  it  is  not  five  minutes  from  the  Hotel 
du  Nord.  I  hope  the  book  will  not  cumber  your  carpet-bag. 
If  they  should  say  anything  at  the  Douane  (which  they  will  not), 
show  them  the  writing  on  the  title-page,  and  say  it  is  not  a 
new  one  —  that  will  be  enough.  I  hope  you  will  have  a  jolly 
time,  singing  '  Mourir  pour  la  Patrie.' 

"  Yours  always, 

"  ALBERT  SMITH." 

"  Your  letter  about  Chamouni  followed  me  to  all  sorts  of 
places.  I  was,  however,  too  much  occupied  with  collecting 
matter  for  my  '  Mont  Blanc '  book,  to  undertake  anything 
else. 

"  We  had  great  fun,  and  the  inundation  caused  much  excite- 
ment. I  suppose  you  saw  Russell's  account  of  it  in  the 
'  Times.'  In  a  hurry,  yours  always, 

"ALBERT  SMITH." 

"  I  wish  we  had  been  nearer  to  one  another,  as  I  could  to- 
day have  put  one  of  the  Gavarni  papers  into  your  hands.  But 
the  next  number  winds  up  the  work  ;  and  he  is  such  a  queer 
customer  that  I  never  know  until  the  last  minute  what  subjects 
he  has  fixed  upon,  and  then  everything  has  to  be  scrambled 
up  by  whoever  I  can  put  my  hand  upon.  I  shall  be  heartily 
glad  to  wash  my  hands  of  it.  We  somewhat  envy  you  at 
Boulogne.  London  is  miserably  dull  just  now,  and  everything 
flat  as  ditch-water,  including,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  books.  I 
have  kept  back  my  next  '  Act '  till  December,  things  were 
selling  so  badly. 

"  I  have  a  slight  notion  of  going  into  farming  !  !  Don't 
laugh  —  and  with  Joe  ! ! !  *  Don't  laugh  again  —  not  believing 
in  literature  as  a  permanency.  We  think  of  renting  a  cheap 
slip  of  Jane  C 's  land,  at Hill  Park,  and  building  pig- 
styes,  keeping  fowls,  etc.  I  don't  mean,  of  course,  to  give  up 
London,  or  rush  into  any  heavy  agricultural  speculations,  but 
I  think  we  shall  be  able  to  turn  a  few  coppers  in  the  course  of 

1  Joseph  Robins,  the  now  popular  comedian,  but  in  those  days  a  gentleman  enjoy- 
ing more  leisure  than  employment. 


ALBERT  SMITH.  309 

the  year  at  a  small  risk.  I  would  sooner  make  a  pound  by 
selling  a  porker  than  write  a  page  of  '  Bentley.' 

"  Last  night  I  met  Thackeray  at  the  Cyder  Cellars,  and  we 
stayed  there  until  three  in  the  morning.  He  is  a  very  jolly 
fellow,  and  no  '  High  Art '  about  him. 

"  Old  Brough  has  bought  the  '  Man  in  the  Moon '  of  In- 
gram ;  and  Angus1  has  a  serial  out  on  the  ist  —  a  heavy, 
melodramatic,  go-ahead  story.  Horace  Mayhevv  is  in  the 
agonies  of  the  '  Almanack,'  2  in  which  I  have  been  helping 
him.  It  is  an  open  opposition  to  '  Punch's  Pocket-Book.'  I 
wish  they  could  get  it  out  first. 

"  Let  us  have  a  line  now  and  then,  when  you  have  a  chance  ; 
and  believe  me,  with  best  regards  to  all  friends."  .... 

In  one  of  the  above  letters  it  will  be  seen  that  Albert  Smith 
speaks  of  "  envying  me  at  Boulogne  ;  "  and  I  am  thus  re- 
minded that  some  of  my  most  agreeable  reminiscences  of  him 
revert  to  a  time  when  he  and  his  brother  Arthur,  and  Joseph 
Robins,  were  enjoying  together  a  few  weeks'  stay  in  that  town. 
Being  by  good  luck  on  a  visit  there  myself  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, I  saw  Smith  and  his  two  companions  daily  ;  and  rather 
than  mingle  with  the  noise  and  confusion  of  that  restless 
watering-place,  we  preferred  an  exclusive  diversion  of  our 
own.  This  consisted  in  our  meeting  on  the  sands  in  the 
morning,  and  paddling  to  one  of  the  little  villages  which  lie 
along  that  part  of  the  coast.  This  was  Albert  Smith's  favor- 
ite enjoyment  at  Boulogne  ;  and  the  many  pleasant  illustra- 
tions he  gave  us  of  the  "  whims  and  oddities  "  of  life,  as  seen 
in  his  own  experience,  were  ably  seconded  by  the  practical 
humor  of  Joe  Robins,  who  already  indicated  the  possession  of 
that  innate  sense  of  drollery  which  has  since  been  success- 
fully developed  on  the  stage.  So  warmly  attached  was  Albert 

1  Angus  B.  Reach  —  one  of  the  foremost  contributors  to  the  periodical  literature 
of  that  time.     The  serial  referred  to  was  a  romance,  called  Clement  Larimer,  or 
the  Book  with  the  Iron  Clasps. 

2  George  Cruikshank's  Comic  Almanack.    H.  M.  was  also  associated  with  a  pub- 
lication called  The  Almanack  of  the  Month,  a  clever  little  serial,  nominally  edited 
by  Gilbert  4  Beckett,  but  suggested  and  put  together  by  the  former. 


310  GEORGE  HODDER. 

to  Boulogne  before  he  became  thoroughly  imbued  with  that 
Alpine  spirit  which  led  him  constantly  to  Chamouni,  and  ulti- 
mately to  the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc,  that  in  one  of  his  fugi- 
tive pieces  he  wrote  a  tribute  to  its  merits  and  attractions, 
from  which  I  give  the  following  extract  as  a  characteristic 
specimen  of  his  style  :  — 

"  In  contradistinction  to  the  imaginary  enjoyment  of  other 
watering-places,  let  us  take  the  pleasant,  careless  Boulogne. 
It  has  been  customary  to  deride  this  new  key-hole  to  the  Con- 
tinent ;  to  joke  about  the  mobs  who  fly  there,  like  the  ships, 
for  a  harbor  of  refuge ;  to  allude  to  stags  and  sharpers,  and 
broken  incomes  —  in  fact,  to  throw  every  possible  slur  upon  it 
and  its  inhabitants.  And  yet  there  is  no  place  in  the  world 
where  really  pleasant  relaxation  can  be  so  readily  procured, 
and  at  such  a  cheap  rate.  You  will  be  told  by  its  enemies 
that  Boulogne  is  now  quite  an  English  town.  Don't  believe 
them.  What  is  there  English  in  its  gay,  lively  port,  and  lines 
of  smart  hotels  —  its  thorough  continental  Rue  Neuve  Chaus- 
se'e  and  tnoyen-&ge  Upper  Town  —  its  poissarde  population, 
with  their  short  red  petticoats  and  naked  legs  or  blue  stock- 
ings—  its  hundreds  of  glittering  white  caps  in  the  Place  on 
market-day  ?  Walk  a  mile  away  from  it  in  any  direction,  to- 
wards Wimereux,  Wimille,  or  Portel,  and  you  will  see  as  much 
of  France  as  though  you  had  been  right  across  it  from  Bou- 
logne to  Besan9on.  Where  will  you  show  us  such  a  glorious 
stroll  as  that  along  the  cliffs  to  Ambleteuse,  with  the  sea  and 
the  picturesque  rocks  and  Martello  towers  so  far  below  you, 
and  literally  in  sight  of  home  all  the  way,  if  the  day  be  but 
moderately  clear  ? 

"  There  is  no  ennui  at  Boulogne,  because  there  is  no  con- 
ventional observance  of  rules  of  deportment.  Everybody  does 
what  he  likes,  not  what  he  thinks  he  ought  to  like.  And  if 
you  wish  it,  there  is  a  charming  private  society.  In  fact, 
Boulogne  is  fining  down  to  exceeding  respectability  ;  for  it  has 
become  a  trifle  too  expensive  for  the  outlawed  tribes,  and  they 
have  emigrated,  many,  we  believe,  to  Calais." 

Apropos  of  Albert  Smith's  ascent  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  the 


ALBERT  SMITH.  31  I 

deservedly  popular  entertainment  which  sprang  from  it,  I  shall 
here  introduce  a  burlesque  form  of  invitation  sent  by  him  to 
his  friends  on  the  occasion  of  opening  or  reopening  what  he 
boldly  called  "  the  show."  This  may  possibly  have  been  pub- 
lished before  ;  but  if  so,  I  cannot  very  justly  be  charged  with 
"  piracy,"  for  I  have  never  yet  seen  it  except  in  its  origina. 
form  ;  and  as  it  was  addressed  to  me  personally,  I  hope  I  may 
be  allowed  to  deal  with  it  according  to  my  own  inclination.  In 
the  first  place,  however,  let  me  state  that  I  chanced  to  dine 
in  Albert  Smith's  company  at  the  Cheshire  Cheese,  in  Fleet 
Street,  on  the  evening  before  he  started  from  London  on  his 
journey  to  Chamouni.  His  animal  spirits  were  tuned  to  a 
high  key,  and  he  spoke  in  rapturous  terms  of  his  intended 
visit  ;  but  I  had  not  the  least  idea  that  he  proposed  to  do 
more  than  spend  a  few  weeks  at  his  favorite  resort. 

"  Off  to-morrow  morning  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  and  I  shall 
make  the  ascent  of  Mont  Blanc  in  a  day  or  two." 

"Bold  thing  to  do,"  I  said,  "for  a  man  who  has  not 
been  in  training,  and  you  are  rather  heavy  for  a  mountain 
climber." 

"  Never  mind,"  he  replied.  "  Pluck  will  serve  me  instead 
of  training ;  and  I  have  n't  the  slightest  fear." 

When  I  afterwards  shook  hands  with  him  I  cordially  wished 
hin  a  "  ban  voyage"  and  the  next  time  I  saw  him  he  had 
written  his  story  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  was  preparing  his  enter- 
tainment. 

The  following  is  a  literal  transcript  of  the  document  just 
referred  to  :  — 

"  We,  Albert  Smith,  one  of  Her  Britannic  Majesty's  repre- 
sentatives on  the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc,  Knight  of  the  most 
noble  order  of  the  Grands  Mulcts,  Baron  Galignani  of  Picca- 
dilly, Knight  of  the  Grand  Crossing  from  Burlington  Arcade 
to  the  Egyptian  Hall,  Member  of  the  Society  for  the  Confu- 
sion of  Useless  Knowledge,  Secretary  for  his  own  Affairs, 
etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

"  Request  and  require  in  the  name  of  His  Majesty  the  Mon- 


312  GEORGE  HODDER. 

arch  of  Mountains  all  those  whom  it  may  concern,  more  espe- 
cially the  Police  on  the  Piccadilly  Frontier,  to  allow  George 
Hodder  to  pass  freely  in  at  the  street-door  of  the  Egyptian 
Hall,  and  up-stairs  to  the  Mont  Blanc  Room,  on  the  evening  of 
Saturday,  Dec.  I,  1855,  at  8  p.  M.,  and  to  afford  him  every 
assistance  in  the  way  of  oysters,  stout,  champagne,  soda  and 
brandy,  and  other  aid  of  which  he  may  stand  in  need. 

"  Given  at  the  Box-office,  Piccadilly,  28th  day  of  November, 
1855.  ALBERT  SMITH. 

"  God  Save  the  Queen  ! 

"  Vu  au  bureau  de  la  Salle.  Bon  pour  entrer  Piccadilly, 
par  P Arcade  de  Burlington.  TRUEFITT. 

"  SAMKDI,  \tt  December,  1855. 

"Viseed  for  the  Garrick  and  Fielding  Clubs,  the  Vaults 
below  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  Truefitt's  Hair-cutting  Sa- 
loon, the  Glacier  de  Gunter,  Jullien's,  Laurent's,  the  Cafe"  de 
1'Europe,  Pratt's,  Limmer's,  and  all  other  places  on  the  Rhine, 
between  Rule's  Marine  Museum,  or  Appetizing  Aquarium,  and 
the  Jolly  Grenadier  public-house,  No.  i,  Ellison  Square,  Pall 
Mall,  South  Sebastopol.  RULE. 

"  Notice.  —  By  the  recent  police  enactments  regulating  large 
assemblies  in  the  neighborhood  of  Piccadilly,  this  passport 
must  be  considered  as  available  for  one  person  only,  and  does 
not  include  the  '  friend  '  who  has  always  been  dining  with  the 
bearer." 

Albert  Smith  made  few  enemies,  but  many  friends,  and  his 
name  is  invariably  alluded  to  amongst  them  in  terms  which 
sufficiently  show  that  his  loss,  as  a  quick-witted,  lively  com- 
panion, still  continues  to  be  felt.  Indeed  it  may  be  said  that 
apart  from  his  merit  as  a  pleasant  and  humorous  writer,  he  oc- 
cupied a  position  as  a  public  "  entertainer  "  which  has  never  yet 
been  worthily  filled. 


KENNY  ME  ADO  WS.  313 

KENNY  MEADOWS. 

Of  Kenny  Meadows  I  had  much  experience  in  his  domestic 
life  ;  and  in  that  position  he  was  invariably  as  communicative 
as  he  was  cordial,  ready  at  all  times  to  repeat  anecdotes  of 
great  men  whom  he  had  known  familiarly,  and  to  relate  many 
of  the  interesting  vicissitudes  of  his  own  checkered  career. 
William  Godwin,  the  author  of  "  Caleb  Williams,"  he  had  met 
as  a  social  companion  ;  and  "  Tom  Moore  "  he  had  seen  in  the 
poet's  own  drawing-room,  practicing  a  song  at  the  pianoforte  ; 
and  he  was  particularly  struck  with  the  bright,  dapper,  unpoetic 
look  of  the  little  man,  as  he  sat  there  en  dishabille,  and  he  was 
much  gratified  at  the  very  polite  manner  in  which  he  received 
him. 

Meadows's  written,  but  not  published,  account  of  this  in- 
terview was  to  the  effect  that  he  had  been  requested  by  the 
Messrs.  Longmans,  of  Paternoster  Row,  to  wait  upon  Moore 
—  then  living  in  Duke  Street,  St.  James's  —  with  a  letter,  which 
he  was  enjoined  to  place  in  his  own  hands,  and  not  to  come 
away  without  doing  so.  The  poet  was  from  home  when  the 
artist  first  knocked  at  his  door ;  and  hence  the  latter,  pursuant 
to  the  instructions  he  had  received,  "  wandered  about  to  kill 
time  "  (to  use  his  own  words).  On  his  presenting  himself  at 
the  house  a  second  time,  the  servant  informed  him  that  Mr. 
Moore  had  just  come  in,  and  he  was  ushered  up-stairs.  "  The 
little  exquisite  "  had  pulled  off  his  boots,  and,  to  Meadows's 
astonishment,  he  displayed  flesh-colored  silk  stockings  —  a 
piece  of  vanity  which  would  excite  much  less  surprise,  now 
that  the  biography  of  the  poet  has  become  known.  He  politely 
handed  a  chair  to  his  visitor,  and  begged  him  to  be  seated 
while  he  wrote  a  reply  to  the  note  the  latter  had  delivered 
to  him.  This  task  accomplished,  Moore  made  some  com- 
plimentary allusion  to  certain  illustrations  Meadows  had  re- 
cently published  ;  "  but,"  says  the  latter,  in  describing  the 
interview,  "  if  I  could  have  looked  into  the  seeds  of  time  and 
have  known  the  poet's  subsequent  criticism  upon  my  drawing 
of  '  The  Peri,'  I  would  have  damaged  his  curly  black  head 
for  him." 


314  GEORGE  HODDER. 

Meadows  was  essentially  valuable  to  "  Punch  "  for  the 
thoughtfulness  of  his  designs  —  as  exemplified,  for  instance, 
in  "  Punch's  Letters  to  his  Son,"  "  Punch's  Complete  Letter 
Writer,"  and  many  of  the  "  cartoons,"  which  were  intended  to 
portray  something  more  than  a  burlesque  view  of  a  current 
event  or  a  popular  abuse.  The  quiet,  unostentatious  way  in 
which  he  worked  at  his  art,  too  often  under  the  most  adverse 
and  discouraging  circumstances,  and  the  pride  he  displayed 
when  he  felt  that  he  had  made  a  "  happy  hit,"  was  somewhat  like 
the  enthusiasm  of  a  youth  who  had  just  attained  the  honor  of 
a  prize.  As  a  draughtsman,  he  never  cared  to  be  guided  by 
those  practical  laws  which  regulate  the  academic  exercise  of 
the  pictorial  art ;  for  he  contended  that  too  strict  an  adherence 
to  Nature  only  trammeled  him,  and  he  preferred  relying  upon 
the  thought  conveyed  in  his  illustrations,  rather  than  upon  the 
mechanical  correctness  of  his  outline  or  perspective.  Among 
the  many  ideas  on  which  he  congratulated  himself,  he  often 
alluded  to  his  design  illustrating  the  blessings  of  peace,  which 
he  typified  by  placing  a  butterfly  at  the  mouth  of  a  cannon. 
This  he  rejoiced  to  think  had  preceded  Sir  Edwin  Landseer's 
picture  of  "  Peace,"  in  which  the  distinguished  royal  academ- 
ician represented  a  lamb  in  the  same  position  that  Meadows 
had  given  to  the  butterfly.  It  is  hardly  to  be  supposed  that 
Sir  Edwin  Landseer  borrowed  his  notion  from  that  of  Kenny 
Meadows  ;  but  the  latter,  not  unnaturally,  considered  there  was 
presumptive  evidence  in  favor  of  the  supposition. 

Meadows  was  very  fond  of  a  quiet  stroll  into  the  country  — 
as  far  as  Hampstead  or  Highgate  ;  both  of  which  places  had 
from  long  custom  more  charms  for  him  than  he  could  see  in 
any  other  accessible  spot  within  a  short  distance  of  the  me- 
tropolis. Highgate,  with  its  picturesque  rural  neighborhood, 
was  especially  full  of  interesting  associations  for  him  ;  and  he 
would  frequently  stop  short  at  the  entrance  to  some  snug-look- 
ing residence  —  notably,  for  example,  that  of  Mr.  Gillman, 
once  famous  as  the  home  of  the  poet  Coleridge  —  and  expati- 
ate upon  the  public  virtues  and  private  characters  of  its  for- 
mer inmates,  and  upon  events  which  had  occurred  therein 


KENNY  MEADOWS.  3  1 5 

during  his  own  experience.  In  speaking  of  the  Gillmans,  he 
said  the  only  reward  they  received  for  their  hospitable  conduct 
—  (but  it  was  a  great  one,  added  Meadows)  —  "was  that  of  an 
immortality,  for  who  would  ever  have  heard  of  them  but  for 
their  connection  with  the  great  poet  ? "  Meadows,  in  these 
our  pleasant  perambulations,  was  wont  to  speak  of  an  old  lady 
who  kept  the  Lion  and  Sun  hotel  in  that  neighborhood.  This 
was  a  favorite  resort  of  Coleridge,  and  the  communicative  land- 
lady used  to  remark  that  he  was  a  great  talker,  and  "  when  he 
began  there  was  no  stopping  him."  Whenever  she  returned 
to  the  room,  she  said,  after  leaving  it  for  a  short  time,  he  would 
still  be  "going  on,"  and  sometimes  he  made  such  a  noise  that 
she  wished  him  further.  Innocent  grandam  !  Little  she 
dreamt  that  in  after  time  his  "  talk  "  would  be  treasured  by  the 
world  as  amongst  the  choicest  fruits  of  genius  ! 

Indeed,  an  afternoon's  walk  with  Kenny  Meadows  from 
Camden  Town,  where  he  long  resided,  to  Highgate,  and  an 
hour's  rest  at  the  Gate  House,  formed  a  most  healthful  recrea- 
tion to  me  ;  for  the  benefit  I  derived  from  listening  to  my  old 
friend  on  one  of  those  pleasant  rambles  seemed  to  bring  back 
a  link  from  the  past,  so  amply  stored  was  his  mind  with  the 
recollection  of  events  which  had  happened  within  his  experi- 
ence. But  Meadows  was  not  always  the  mentor  or  mere 
cicerone  on  these  occasions  ;  for  he  would  sometimes  be  in  a 
jocular  mood,  and  not  disposed  to  take  a  serious  and  retro- 
spective view  of  things  which  he  brought  under  my  notice.  I 
had  told  him  that  a  few  evenings  previously  I  had  visited  a 
friend  of  his  at  Kentish  Town,  and  that  when  the  door  was 
opened  the  whole  of  his  family,  numbering  about  twelve, 
stood  in  the  passage  !  At  once  perceiving  that  there  was 
something  extremely  ludicrous  in  the  picture,  Meadows  turned 

it  to  account  by  observing  that  he  pitied  poor ,  for  his 

children  were  so  numerous  you  could  n't  shut  the  street-door 
for  them  ! 

At  the  time  of  "  Punch's  "  original  gatherings  Kenny  Mead- 
ows was  the  Nestor  of  the  party  ;  and  at  this  present  writing 
he  is,  I  have  reason  to  believe,  in  a  condition  of  health  very 


316  GEORGE  HODDER. 

little  impaired  by  his  advanced  age,  but  is  enjoying,  at  the 
close  of  a  life  in  which  he  has  seen  too  much  that  was  bitter, 
the  sweets  of  a  Government  pension,  bestowed  upon  him  by 
Lord  Palmerston,  for  his  poetical  illustrations  to  "  Tyas's 
Shakespeare." 

GEORGE  CRUIKSHANK. 

By  a  natural  association  of  ideas,  the  name  of  George 
Cruikshank  seems  to  connect  itself  with  that  of  Kenny  Mead- 
ows, for  there  is  not  much  difference  in  their  ages,  and  both 
have  spent  the  greater  part  of  a  long  life  in  illustrating  popu- 
lar works  by  the  exercise  of  an  imaginative  power  which  has 
always  added  strength  and  grace  to  the  subject-matter  they 
have  undertaken  to  embody.  It  would  be  idle  to  remark  that 
there  is  a  great  deal  that  is  not  common  between  them  ;  but 
each  has  oftentimes  given  pictorial  expression  to  an  idea 
which  the  other  would  have  been  proud  to  conceive.  There 
was  a  time  when  anecdotes  were  rife  concerning  George 
Cruikshank's  bonhomie  before  he  signed  the  teetotaler's 
pledge  ;  but  in  the  long  lapse  of  years  they  have  almost  faded 
from  the  memory,  and  he  is  now  as  familiarly  known  as  the 
enthusiastic  apostle  of  temperance,  as  he  is  for  the  moral 
lessons  he  has  taught  in  his  designs. 

"  Now,  this  won't  do  !  "  he  will  exclaim  if  he  meets  an  inti- 
mate friend  who  he  can  plainly  perceive  has  not  limited  his  li- 
bations entirely  to  cold  water  for  the  last  few  hours.  "  Do  you 
see  that  house  there  ?  "  "  Yes."  "  Ah,"  continues  Cruikshank, 
"he  was  a  worthy  fellow  who  once  lived  there  ;  but  drink,  sir, 
drink  settled  him,  as  it  has  done  many  a  man."  "  Well,  but 
in  moderation"  replies  the  individual  thus  admonished. 
"  Moderation  !"  cries  George  ;  "don't  talk  to  me  about  mod- 
eration ;  there's  no  such  thing  in  regard  to  drink.  Give  it  up 
entirely,  as  I  have  done,  or  it  will  give  you  up."  "  Well,  but 
you  see" —  "See!"  rejoins  the  mentor,  interrupting  him. 
"  Why,  look  at  me.  What  do  you  think  of  that  for  an  arm  at 
seventy  odd  years  of  age  "  (extending  his  right  arm  and  dis- 
playing it,  as  if  about  to  strike  a  blow).  "  Where  's  the  drinkei 


GEORGE  CRUIKSHANK.  317 

who  could  show  such  an  arm  at  the  same  age  ?  "  I  once  men- 
tioned this  fact  to  Kenny  Meadows,  after  it  had  been  told  me 
by  the  person  to  whom  it  had  occurred,  and  Meadows  ob- 
served, laughingly,  "  Well,  I  have  drunk  my  share  in  my  time, 
and  I  am  older  than  Cruikshank,  and  find  nothing  to  complain 
of  in  my  muscular  power."  But  no  one  could,  for  a  moment, 
gainsay  the  zeal  and  honesty  with  which  George  Cruikshank 
has  devoted  himself  to  the  cause  of  teetotalism  ;  and  there 
cannot  be  a  doubt  that  he  has  effected  considerable  good  by 
his  precept  and  example.  Of  the  various  public  occasions  on 
which  I  have  seen  Cruikshank  in  the  exercise  of  his  function 
as  a  disciple  of  total  abstinence,  I  call  to  mind  one  instance,  as 
quite  sufficient  to  exemplify  the  pains  he  has  taken  to  incul- 
cate the  virtue,  despite  the  severe  test  to  which  his  patience 
has  often  been  exposed.  Some  years  since,  when  Henry 
Mayhew,  in  the  progress  of  his  work,  "  London  Labor  and  the 
London  Poor,"  had  made  himself  familiar  with  the  coster- 
mongers  of  London,  that  earnest  writer  presided  at  a  supper 
given  to  the  fraternity  in  a  remote  part  of  the  East  end.  The 
only  drink  to  be  consumed  was  to  consist  of  water  and  ginger- 
beer  ;  and  amongst  the  company  at  the  principal  table  was 
George  Cruikshank,  who  looked  on  with  delight  at  the  exem- 
plary conduct  of  a  body  of  men  whom  he  had  always  been 
taught  to  suppose  were  the  very  opposite  of  teetotalers. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  a  speech  was  delivered  by  the 
treasurer  of  the  Costermongers'  Society  (the  exact  name  of 
which  I  forget),  and,  on  hearing  this,  the  honest-hearted 
George  began  to  think  that  it  was  time  the  costers  were 
ranked  among  the  public  teachers,  instead  of  being  classed 
with  the  pariahs  of  society.  Unfortunately,  the  ginger-beer 
bottles  were  convenient  vessels  for  carrying  something  more 
potent  than  water  ;  and  there  were  certain  individuals,  seated 
in  close  proximity  to  the  chairman  and  his  redoubtable  sup- 
porter, George  Cruikshank,  who  had  taken  an  opportunity  of 
smuggling  into  the  room,  by  means  of  one  of  the  said  bottles, 
an  alcoholic  decoction  of  the  same  color  as  aqua  pura.  This 
was  of  course  entirely  unknown  either  to  the  chairman  or  to 


318  GEORGE  HODDER. 

Cruikshank,  and  when  the  latter,  in  addressing  the  polite  as- 
sembly, congratulated  them  upon  the  happiness  they  were  en- 
joying, "  with  nothing  before  them  in  the  shape  of  drink 
stronger  than  water,"  great  was  his  horror,  just  as  he  pro- 
nounced the  last  word  in  the  sentence,  at  hearing  a  voice  ex- 
claim, "  How  deuced  weak  !  "  The  traitor  was  drinking  gin 
under  the  very  nostrils  of  teetotalism  !  The  imperturbable 
Cruikshank  said  nothing,  but  the  look  he  gave  was  intended 
to  throw  poison  into  the  spirit !  As  to  the  eloquent  treasurer, 
his  connection  with  the  society  was  not  calculated  to  render 
much  service  to  the  cause,  for  it  soon  afterwards  transpired 
that  he  had  embezzled  the  funds  intrusted  to  his  keeping ! 

In  the  works  of  George  Cruikshank  there  is  a  curious  in- 
stance in  proof  of  the  fact  that  artists  have  often  produced 
their  finest  effects  by  pure  accident,  when  every  attempt  to  at- 
tain the  desired  object  by  toil  and  care  has  failed.  When  the 
great  George  brought  forth  his  remarkable  figure  of  Fagin  in 
the  condemned  cell,  where  the  Jew  malefactor  is  represented 
biting  his  finger-nails  in  the  tortures  of  remorse  and  chagrin, 
Horace  Mayhew  took  an  opportunity  of  asking  him  by  what 
mental  process  he  had  conceived  such  an  extraordinary  idea  ; 
and  his  answer  was  that  he  had  been  laboring  at  the  subject 
for  several  days,  but  had  not  succeeded  in  getting  the  effect 
he  desired.  At  length,  beginning  to  think  the  task  was  al- 
most hopeless,  he  was  sitting  up  in  bed  one  morning,  with  his 
hand  covering  his  chin,  and  the  tips  of  his  fingers  between  his 
lips,  the  whole  attitude  expressive  of  disappointment  and  de- 
spair, when  he  saw  his  face  in  a  cheval  glass  which  stood  on 
the  floor  opposite  to  him.  "That's  it!"  he  involuntarily  ex- 
claimed ;  "  that 's  just  the  expression  I  want ! "  and  by  this 
accidental  process  the  picture  was  formed  in  his  mind.  The 
practical  filling-up  of  the  design  was  soon  carried  into  effect, 
and  the  result  is  too  well  known  among  the  masterpieces  of 
Cruikshank's  pencil  to  need  any  description  from  my  humble 
pen. 


A  LOVER  OF  AUTOGRAPHS.  319 

A  LOVER  OF  AUTOGRAPHS. 

My  connection  with  the  Sanatorium  brought  me  in  contact 
with  a  gentleman  well  known  in  the  city  for  his  urbanity  and 
mercantile  intelligence,  and  for  his  liberal  doings  in  matters 
of  a  charitable  nature,  such  as  those  which  came  under  his 
control  as  a  member  of  the  committee  of  management.  Hold- 
ing a  responsible  office  in  his  establishment  was  an  ambi- 
tious gentleman  who  had  published  a  volume  of  poems,  and 
who  had  a  great  desire  to  possess  autograph-letters  of  eminent 
men.  This  latter  fact  I  allude  to  because  I  had  reason  to 
believe  it  was  the  cause  of  his  introducing  me  to  an  eminent 
writer,  whose  works  I  had  read  with  an  appreciation  beyond 
that  which  is  ordinarily  commanded  by  contemporary  authors, 
and  whom  I  could  not  have  supposed  I  should  ever  have 
the  privilege  of  meeting  in  friendly  intercourse.  In  my  ca- 
pacity of  secretary  to  the  Sanatorium,  I  had  been  called 
upon  to  address  a  letter  to  the  late  Thomas  Hood,  requesting 
him  to  act  as  a  steward  on  the  occasion  of  a  public  dinner  then 
about  to  take  place  in  aid  of  the  funds  of  that  institution,  and 
I  immediately  received,  in  answer  to  my  application,  a  letter 
which  the  great  humorist  well  knew  would  be  read  aloud  to 
the  company  assembled  at  the  banquet,  and  in  which,  there- 
fore, he  had  contrived  to  embody  those  characteristics  of 
drollery  and  pathos  so  peculiarly  belonging  to  him.  The  effect 
of  the  letter  was  that  the  writer  regretted  that,  "  although  a 
married  man,  and  well  tended,"  and  receiving  those  domestic 
comforts  which  should  help  to  enable  him  to  bear  the  buffets 
of  fortune,  he  could  not,  on  account  of  impaired  health,  accept 
the  honor  sought  to  be  conferred  upon  him.  The  dinner 
took  place,  and  the  letter  was  read  out  as  Mr.  Hood  antic- 
ipated. Among  the  guests  was  the  autograph-seeking  gentle- 
man befoje  alluded  to  ;  and  in  the  course  of  the  evening  he 
came  to  me  to  express  the  unbounded  interest  he  felt  in  the 
letter  as  a  valuable  illustration  of  Hood's  peculiar  humor. 
I  fully  appreciated  the  incontestible  remark,  and  kept  the 
letter  —  for  which,  by  the  way,  I  was  afterwards  offered  a  high 


320  GEORGE  HODDER. 

price  in  specie,  but  disdained  to  accept  it,  feeling  assured  that 
I  possessed  a  treasure  which  must  be  regarded  as  a  literary 
curiosity  of  more  than  ordinary  interest. 

LEIGH  HUNT. 

In  the  course  of  *  week  or  two  from  the  date  of  the  festive 
gathering,  I  received  a  pressing  invitation  from  the  poetaster 
in  question,  to  dine  with  him  at  his  house  at  Peckham,  "  to 
meet  Leigh  Hunt  and  his  daughters,"  and  begging  me  to  take 

with  me  the  letter  of  Thomas  Hood,  as  Mrs. (his  wife) 

was  most  anxious  to  see  it.  Here  was  an  honor  so  entirely 
unsought  and  unexpected,  that  I  could  only  consider  it  in  the 
light  of  "  greatness  thrust  upon  me  ;  "  and  alarmed  though  I 
was  at  the  idea  of  meeting  the  intimate  associate  of  two  such 
world-renowned  men  as  Byron  and  Shelley,  and  who  had  suf- 
fered imprisonment  for  the  bold  expression  of  his  opinions  as 
a  journalist,  I  very  naturally  availed  myself  of  the  opportunity. 
The  evening  arrived,  and  the  party  consisted,  besides  the  host 
and  hostess,  of  Mr.  Leigh  Hunt  and  his  two  daughters,  Julia 
and  Jacinth.il  I  trust  I  am  betrayed  into  no  error  as  to  the 
names  "of  the  fair  ladies),  Mr.  Augustus  Dickens,  youngest 
brother  of  Mr.  Charles  Dickens,  and  who  then  held  a  clerk- 
ship in  the  same  merchant's  office  as  the  host,  and  myself. 
Mr.  Hunt  sat  opposite  to  me,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that 
my  respect  for  the  viands  before  me  was  much  weakened  by 
the  reflection  that  I  was  in  presence  of  a  poet,  whose  "  Story 
of  Rimini "  had  attracted  the  notice  and  gained  the  commen- 
dation of  Lord  Byron,  and  who  had  often  been  alluded  to  by 
Shelley  in  his  prose  writings  as  among  his  choicest  compan- 
ions. 

To  be  seated  at  the  same  table  with  Leigh  Hunt  was,  I 
thought,  like  seeing  Byron  and  Shelley  by  a  reflected  light  ; 
and  I  could  not  but  watch,  with  a  curiosity  amounting  almost 
to  awe,  every  movement  of  his  face,  and  every  \^»rd  that  fell 
from  his  lips.  True,  I  soon  discovered  that,  after  all,  he  was 
but  mortal  man,  and  that,  despite  the  history  of  his  past  career, 
he  talked  and  acted  as  a  being  of  ordinary  instincts  rather  than 


LEIGH  HUNT.  321 

as  one  who  might  be  supposed  to  have  wings  to  fly  with.  Still 
I  was  constantly  reminded  of  the  indisputable  fact  that  Leigh 
Hunt  was  "  somebody,"  and  that  I  was  assuredly  complimented 
in  being  brought  into  such  close  companionship  with  him. 

I  hardly  dare  venture  to  describe  his  personal  appearance, 
further  than  to  say  he  looked\ht  man  of  that  refined  intellectual 
power  which  had  given  him  his  place  in  the  literature  of  his 
time  ;  that 'his  complexion  seemed  strangely  to  harmonize  with 
his  hair  (for  he  wore  no  whiskers,  and  moustaches  at  that  time 
had  not  found  their  way  to  this  country),  in  one  uniform  tint  of 
iron  gray ;  and  that  his  shirt-collar  ascended  from  his  neck  in 
a  ntgligt  manner,  which  might  be  considered  slovenly,  but 
which  was  picturesquely  effective  in  its  loose  luxuriance. 
There  was,  moreover,  a  sort  of  valetudinarian  air  about  him, 
and  he  appeared  extremely  particular  as  to  what  he  ate  and 
drank,  preferring,  he  said,  the  mildest  form  of  nutriment,  such 
as  he  was  accustomed  to  at  home  — "  just  the  wing  of  a 
chicken."  and  "  only  a  moderate  quantity  of  sherry  and  water  " 
being  especially  demanded. 

Dinner  over,  the  company  were  ushered  into  the  drawing- 
room,  which  communicated  with  the  salle-a-manger,  and  there 
the  host  and  hostess  very  wisely  suggested  "  a  little  music." 
Accordingly  the  Misses  Hunt  most  kindly  indulged  the  com- 
pany with  a  specimen  of  their  taste  and  skill  in  pianoforte- 
playing  ;  and  at  length  our  host  prevailed  upon  his  dis- 
tinguished visitor  himself  to  "favor  us  with  a  tune"  —  a 
knowledge  of  music  being  known  to  be  one  of  Mr.  Hunt's 
accomplishments.  With  this  request  he  most  readily  com- 
plied, and  good-humoredly  observed,  "  I  will  give  you  a  fa- 
vorite barcarolle  which  I  was  in  the  habit  of  playing  to  Birron 
and  Shelley  in  Italy "  (he  pronounced  the  first  name  as  if  it 
were  spelt  as  I  have  written  it  —  with  two  "  rr's  "  and  the  "  i  " 
short). 

He  executed  the  task  with  a  spirit  and  delicacy  which  could 
hardly  have  been  expected  from  an  amateur  who  had  passed 
the  greater  part  of  his  days  in  the  cultivation  of  literature  — 
"  walled  in  by  books,"  to  use  his  own  phrase  ;  but  if  he  had 

21 


322  GEORGE  HODDER. 

caused  the  instrument  to  speak  or  to  roar,  instead  of  making  it 
"discourse  most  eloquent  music,"  I  think  I  should  gladly  have 
lent  my  aid  to  secure  an  encore.  Indeed,  the  performance 
suggested  a  combination  of  three  great  names,  whose  metrical 
sounds  had  long  rung  in  the  ears  of  admiring  Englishmen ; 
and  I  could  not  help  thinking  how  greatly  many  of  Mr.  Hunt's 
compeers  must  have  envied  him  the  power  and  opportunity  of 
entertaining  two  such  renowned  geniuses  as  Lord  Byron  and 
Percy  Bysshe  Shelley. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  our  host  took  pains  to  remind 
me  of  his  wife's  high  appreciation  of  the  autographic  letters 
of  eminent  men,  and  he  assured  me  that  she  would  be  "  so 
much  obliged  to  me  "  if  I  would  lend  her,  for  a  few  days,  the 
interesting  epistle  I  had  in  my  possession  from  Tom  Hood. 
Full  of  gratitude  for  the  honor  I  had  received  at  his  hands,  I 
immediately  consented;  and  —  as  may  well  be  imagined — I 
never  saw  the  letter  afterwards.  Thus  was  I  made  to  sacrifice 
a  treasure  which  had  come  to  me  from  Tom  Hood  for  the 
pleasure  and  privilege  of  an  introduction  to  Leigh  Hunt ;  and 
it  is  in  no  revengeful  spirit  that  I  mention  the  climax  to  the 
story,  when  I  state  that  the  master  of  the  feast  was  afterwards 
dismissed  from  the  office  he  held  in  the  city  for  the  trifling 
error  of  paying  more  regard  to  his  own  pocket  than  to  the 
interests  of  his  employers. 

Mr.  Hunt  had  engaged  a  fly  for  the  evening  (in  tliose  days 
cabs  had  not  asserted  their  all-prevailing  sway  in  the  streets 
of  the  metropolis) ;  and  as  he  lived  at  Kensington,  and  I  dwelt 
on  the  road  thither,  he  very  graciously  offered  me  a  seat  —  an 
act  of  courtesy  on  his  part,  which  I,  of  course,  cheerfully  ac- 
cepted ;  so  that  I  now  found  myself  one  of  four  in  the  same 
carriage  with  a  world-renowned  character  whom  I  had  previ- 
ously been  proud  to  encounter  in  the  same  room.  In  the 
course  of  a  most  agreeable  conversation  (during  which  I  par- 
ticularly observed  that  Mr.  Hunt  never  strove  to  assert  the 
superiority  which  he  possessed),  I  could  not  resist  the  oppor- 
tunity of  telling  him  that,  like  himself,  I  had  been  educated  at 
Christ's  Hospital ;  whereupon  he  playfully  observed  that  he 


LEIGH  HUNT.  323 

was  there  a  little  before  my  time,1  and  that  Coleridge  and 
Charles  Lamb  were  somewhat  before  his  time.  Here  again  I 
was  rendered  deeply  sensible  of  the  good  fortune  which  had 
befallen  me  ;  for  I  had  not  only  been  in  close  companionship 
with  the  friend  of  Byron  and  Shelley,  but  was  now  riding  from 
one  extreme  of  London  to  another  with  one  who  had  sat  under 
the  same  masters  as  Coleridge  and  Charles  Lamb.  Byron  and 
Shelley,  Coleridge  and  Lamb  !  Four  bright  and  penetrating 
examples  of  the  literary  character  of  this  century  —  so  potent 
in  their  moral  and  intellectual  influence,  that  it  is  difficult  to 
avoid  the  impression  that,  however  unsuccessfully  we  may 
draw  our  conclusions  respecting  their  mental  or  physical 
calibre,  one  seems  to  have  been  brought,  as  it  were,  into  famil- 
iar communion  with  them,  in  having  enjoyed  the  society  of 
their  accomplished  friend,  Leigh  Hunt.  He  most  kindly  in- 
vited me  to  his  "  quiet  suburban  abode  ;  "  but  alas  !  I  let  the 
happy  chance  slip  by  me  ! 

Not  long  after  the  memorable  little  dinner  at  Peckham,  a 
weekly  periodical  was  started,  under  the  experienced  editor- 
ship of  Mr.  Hunt,  and  called  "  Leigh  Hunt's  London  Jour- 
nal." Thinking  that  a  favorable  chance  was  here  afforded  me 
of  coming  in  contact  with  Mr.  Hunt  under  more  practical  cir- 
cumstances than  I  had  yet  done,  I  forwarded  to  him  a  contri- 
bution to  the  journal,  and  received  a  gratifying  note  in  return, 
accepting  it.  Unfortunately,  however,  the  periodical  did  not 
prove  a  permanent  success  ;  and  when  the  final  number  made 
its  appearance,  the  article  in  question  had  not  been  permitted 
to  see  the  light.'  Many  good-natured  friends  stated  at  the 
time  that  it  was  in  consequence  of  its  being  known  to  the  in- 
quiring readers  that  they  were  threatened  with  a  contribution 
of  mine  that  the  publication  came  to  an  untimely  end  !  With- 
out stopping  to  inquire  into  the  truth  or  cynicism  of  this  alle- 
gation, it  is  melancholy  to  relate  that  the  MS.  has  been  lost  to 
a  disappointed  posterity.  Hoping  to  redeem  it,  I  wrote  a 

1  Leigh  Hunt  was  at  that  time  sixty  years  of  age,  as,  in  fact,  he  told  me  during 
our  ride  ;  and  (not  to  be  too  particular)  I  was  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  younger 
tlian  I  am  now. 


324  GEORGE  HODDER. 

respectful  letter  to  Mr.  Hunt,  and  in  order  that  he  might 
extend  to  me  a  little  more  indulgence  than  is  generally  shown 
by  editors  to  casual  contributors,  I  reminded  him  of  the  flat- 
tering circumstances  under  which  I  had  met  him  some  time 
previously,  and  of  the  friendly  feeling  he  had  then  displayed 
towards  me.  In  answer  to  my  communication  I  received  the 
following  letter  from  his  son,  Vincent  Leigh  Hunt,  dated  — 

"April  16,  1851. 

"  DEAR  SIR,  —  I  hold  the  pen  for  my  father,  whose  state  of 
health  obliges  him,  at  present,  to  write  as  little  as  possible. 

"  The  address  of  Mr.  Stores  Smith,  the  projector  and  pro- 
prietor of  the  late  journal,  is  No.  I,  Edith  Villas,  North  End, 
Fulham.  With  regard  to  the  MS.  it  is  believed  to  be  at 
Messrs.  Stewart  and  Murray's,  printers  (of  the  Journal),  Green 
Arbor  Court,  Old  Bailey,  but  if  you  do  not  find  it  there,  and 
will  let  my  father  know  as  much,  he  will  cause  further  search 
to  be  made. 

"  My  father,  who  has  a  very  agreeable  recollection  of  you, 
is  duly  sensible  of  your  kind  expressions." 

I  applied  to  the  printers  as  directed,  but  with  no  satisfac- 
tory result ;  and  it  was  not  very  probable  that  I  should  ever 
trouble  Mr.  Hunt  to  "  cause  further  search  to  be  made."  As 
to  the  "  Journal,"  its  existence  was  not  prolonged  beyond  six 
months  —  sufficient  time  to  bring  into  life  the  contents  of  one 
volume. 

It  is,  of  course,  beyond  my  province  to  express  any  opinion 
in  regard  to  Leigh  Hunt's  valuable  contributions  to  the  litera- 
ture of  his  time.  Full  justice  has  been  rendered  him  in  this 
respect  by  Mr.  Edmund  Oilier  in  an  interesting  memoir  of  the 
poet  and  essayist.  It  will  be  sufficient  for  me  to  confine  my- 
self in  this,  as  in  most  other  cases,  to  the  wholesome  practice 
of  "speaking  of  a  man  as  we  find  him;"  and  I  certainly 
found  in  Leigh  Hunt  a  man  who  appeared  the  very  opposite 
of  one  who  could  be  capable  of  disparaging  either  a  living 
prince  or  a  dead  poet.  The  monument  which  has  recently 


JAMES  SHERIDAN  KNOWLES.  325 

been  erected  to  his  memory,  by  subscription,  may  at  least  be 
taken  as  a  proof  that  he  lived  to  be  regarded  as  a  gentle- 
hearted,  kindly-disposed  man  ;  and  that,  notwithstanding  the 
errors  into  which  .he  was  betrayed  in  his  earlier  years,  he  won 
the  respect  and  good-will  of  those  who  knew  him  best,  and 
whose  opinion  he  would  wish  to  be  recorded  on  his  tomb. 

JAMES  SHERIDAN  KNOWLES. 

It  will  not,  I  think,  be  out  of  place  here  to  mention  that  I 
once  met  James  Sheridan  Knowles  (the  author  of  a  play 
which,  if  he  had  written  no  other,  would  have  made  his  name 
immortal  in  the  annals  of  dramatic  literature  —  "  Virginius  ") 
under  circumstances  of  singular  interest.  I  had  entered  the 
coffee-room  of  a  tavern  in  the  neighborhood  of  Covent  Gar- 
den, where  a  large  number  of  actors  and  others  connected 
with  the  theatrical  profession  were,  as  usual,  assembled  ;  and 
I  found  that  the  company,  instead  of  indulging  in  that  freedom 
of  speech,  and  that  audible  interchange  of  opinion  which  was 
their  wont,  seemed  to  be  under  some  kind  of  restraint ;  for 
those  who  did  venture  to  say  anything,  spoke 

"  In  a  bondman's  key. 
With  bated  breath,  and  whispering  humbleness." 

This  extraordinary  reticence  surprised  me  greatly  ;  and  on 
looking  round  the  room,  in  some  perplexity,  I  perceived  Sher- 
idan Knowles  (who  was  then  in  the  zenith  of  his  fame)  seated 
in  a  far  corner,  taking  no  part  in  any  conversation,  and  appar- 
ently not  quite  at  his  ease.  "  There  's  Sheridan  Knowles  !  " 
whispered  more  than  one  gentleman  of  the  party,  as  I  ad- 
vanced to  find  a  seat  for  myself;  and,  as  I  immediately  per- 
ceived, it  was  the  fact  of  the  great  dramatic  author  being  pres- 
ent which  had  exercised  a  species  of  awe  over  an  assembly  of 
players  !  In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  he  rose  to  take  his 
departure  ;  and  I  was  much  interested  in  observing  that  every 
man  in  the  room  rose  in  obeisance  to  him.  This  was  a  trib- 
ute to  genius  which  made  a  deep  impression  upon  me  at  the 
time,  and  I  have  often  thought  since  that  it  did  much  honor  to 
those  who,  in  offering  it,  played  a  part  so  worthy  of  the  theat- 
rical- profession. 


326  GEORGE  ff ODDER. 

Sheridan  Knowles  was  singularly  remarkable,  as  is  well 
known,  for  an  ingenuous  simplicity  of  speech,  together  with 
an  absence  of  mind,  which  it  was  difficult  to  conceive  in  a 
man  of  such  eminence  ;  and  many  anecdotes  are  told  of  him 
which  prove  the  correctness  of  this  statement.  As  I  have 
never  seen  any  of  these  in  print,  though  they  may  possibh 
have  appeared,  I  shall  offer  no  excuse  for  introducing  in  this 
place  a  few  instances,  which  were  communicated  to  me  by  the 
persons  to  whom  they  relate. 

Jerrold  once  asked  Knowles  to  explain  the  meaning  of  a 
particular  incident  in  the  plot  of  "  The  Hunchback,"  which 
had  always  appeared  to  him  to  involve  an  improbability  un- 
worthy of  so  excellent  a  production.  "  My  dear  boy  !  "  said 
Knowles,  "  upon  my  word  I  can't  tell  you.  Plots  write  them- 
selves." The  same  fellow-dramatist,  having  on  another  occa- 
sion made  some  observation  to  Knowles  on  a  scene  in  Shake- 
speare which  had  much  impressed  him,  was  anxious  to  test 
his  friend's  opinion  upon  the  subject  (thinking,  of  course,  that 
he  would  prove  himself  a  great  authority  in  reference  to  such 
a  question) ;  but  the  moment  Jerrold  pronounced  the  name 
"  Shakespeare,"  Knowles  exclaimed,  "  Ton  my  honor,  I  never 
read  Shakespeare.  I  leave  him  for  my  old  age  !  " 

When  a  version  of  "  Frankenstein  "  was  being  performed 
nightly  at  two  metropolitan  theatres,  the  hero  being  repre- 
sented at  the  one  by  O.  Smith,  and  at  the  other  by  T.  P. 
Cooke  —  Knowles,  on  meeting  the  former  one  day  in  the  street, 
stopped  him,  and  cried,  "  Faith  !  I  met  your  namesake  yester- 
day —  Mr.  T.  P.  Cooke  ! " 

The  names  of  Mark  Lemon  and  Leman  Rede  used  to  puzzle 
him  severely  :  and  as  both  were,  at  the  period  I  speak  of,  fre- 
quently before  the  public  as  writers  for  the  stage,  Knowles 
could  never  bring  himself  to  understand  which  of  the  two  was 
the  subject  of  congratulation  when  a  dramatic  success  h:ul 
been  achieved  by  either  of  them.  At  length  he  met  Leman 
Rede  and  Mark  Lemon  walking  arm-in-arm.  "  Ah  !  "  said 
Knowles,  the  moment  he  was  close  enough  to  accost  them, 
"  now  I  'm  bothered  entirely  !  Which  of  you  is  the  other  ?  " 


JAMES  SHERIDAN  KNOWLES.  327 

Of  Knowles's  ability  as  an  actor  I  will  not  attempt  to  express 
an  opinion,  further  than  to  say  it  was  very  far  below  his  powers 
as  an  author ;  and  I  will  venture  to  relate  a  trifling  incident* 
which  I  witnessed,  in  order  to  show  that  he  could  not  be  re- 
lied upon  as  a  master  of  all  the  resources  and  conventional- 
ities of  the  stage.  He  was  playing  the  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
in  "  King  Henry  VIII.,"  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  and  in  one 
of  the  early  scenes  it  was  his  task  to  deliver  several  important 
speeches,  all  requiring  the  most  careful  and  vigorous  declama- 
tion, and  leaving  very  small  chance  for  an  adroit  escape  in  the 
event  of  the  memory  proving  treacherous.  In  these  he  was 
evidently  somewhat  at  a  loss,  and  indeed  gave  no  little  con- 
firmation of  his  own  statement  that  he  had  "never  read  Shake- 
speare." At  length  he  came  to  a  passage  which  brought 
him  to  a  complete  stand-still,  and  instead  of  looking  to  the 
prompter  for  assistance,  or  getting  out  of  the  difficulty  by 
some  dexterous  ruse,  as  a  more  "  knowing  "  artist  would  have 
done,  he  remained  in  front  of  the  foot-lights,  and  thumped  his 
forehead  several  times  with  his  hand  ;  but  the  words  would 
not  come  !  The  gesture  was  one  which  is,  of  course,  well  un- 
derstood in  private  life,  but  which  could  not  be  otherwise  than 
ludicrous  when  seen  upon  the  stage,  as  in  the  instance  now 
recorded.  There  was  an  unavoidable  titter  amongst  the  au- 
dience, but  respect  for  the  author  and  sympathy  with  the  ac- 
tor prevented  it  from  rising  into  absolute  laughter. 


INDEX. 


Ainsworth,  W.  Harrison.     Visits  Mon- 

crief  with  Barham,  157. 
Alvanley,    Lord.     "  Never    could    do    a 

Jew,"   122.     "  Less  gilding  and  more 

carving,"  122. 

"  Antwerp,  The  Wife  of,"  to/). 
Arnold,  Samuel.    His  equanimity  in  mis- 
fortune, 122. 
"  Artevelde,   Philip  van.:>     Unfavorable 

opinion  of,  by  Milman  and   Harness, 

248. 
Authorship,  Denials  of.     Southey's,  123. 

Sydney    Smith's,     123.       Sir    Walter 

Scott's,  123. 
Autographs,  A  lover  of,   319.     Swindles 

Hudder  out  of  a  letter  of  Hood's,  322. 

Daily,  E.  H.  Makes  a  bust  of  Jerrold,  283. 

Baker,  Steady.     Boy  brought  before,  for 
stealing  gooseberries,  48. 

Bandbox.      The  importance  of,  38. 

Barium,  Edward.     Poetical  letter  to,  by 
his  father,  141. 

Barham,  R.  H.  Acquaintance  with  Hook, 
19.  Compared  with  Hook,  26.  Letter 
to  Bentley  about  Hook's  death,  39. 
Letter  to  Bentley  in  reference  to  the 
Life  of  Hook,  40.  Letier  to  Mrs. 
Hughes  about  Hook,  42.  Mrs.  Hughes 
relates  anecdotes  of  Scott,  46.  Adven- 
ture with  Diggle,  52.  College  life,  53. 
Averse  to  speculation,  54.  Reply  to 
his  tutor,  54.  Assists  Hnrley  to  cos- 
tume. 55.  Among  smugglers,  57.  Dis- 
believes Spiritualism,  59.  Poetical  in- 
vitation to  dinner,  60.  Poem  on  a  hare, 
61.  Recovers  Dr.  Blomberg's  fiddles, 
67.  Witnesses  a  case  of  mesmerism, 
71.  Makes  a  dubious  acquaintance, 
93.  Acts  as  one  of  the  stewards  of  the 
Literary  Fund  dinner,  96.  Sups  with 
Mr.  Blackwood,  96.  Intimacy  with 
Thomas  Hume,  9?.  Acquaintance  with  I 
Matthews.  103.  Attends  the  funeral  of  I 


Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  112.  PoeticaJ 
epistle  to  his  son  Richard,  116.  Ac 
quaintance  with  Sydney  Smith,  nS 
Dines  at  the  Beefsteak  Club,  122 
Dines  at  tha  "  Garrick,"  123.  "  M> 
Cousin  Nicholas,"  125.  "  My  Grand- 
father's Knocker,"  126.  Corrects  Lin- 
ley's  reading  of  "  hurly  burly,'*  129. 
Parody  of  Haynes  Bayly,  132.  Lines 
left  at  Hook's  house,  133.  Dines 
with  Sydney  Smith  134.  "  You  are 
the  canister,"  137.  Meets  Thomas 
Moore,  140.  Poetical  epistle  to  his 
son  Edward,  141.  Poem  to  his  cat 
Jerry,  142.  Poetical  epistle  to  Dr. 
Hume,  152.  Detects  an  accom- 
plished swindler,  153.  "  A  Song 
of  Sixpence,"  155.  Receives  a  visit 
from  the  Queen  of  the  Belgians,  156. 
Goes  with  Ainsworth  to  see  Moncrief, 
157.  Hoax  about  a  terrier,  167.  His 
surgeon,  170.  "The  Bulletin,"  172. 
''  To  the  Garrick  Club,"  174. 

Barham,  R.  H.  D.  Poetical  epistle  to,  by 
his  father,  116. 

Bayly,  Haynes.  Parody  of  his  style,  by 
Barham,  132. 

Bentley,  Richard.  Barham's  letter  to, 
about  Hook's  death,  39.  Advice  as  to 
who  should  edit  Hook's  Remains,  41. 

Blomberg,  Edward,  Captain  (Major?). 
Apparition  of,  65.  His  child  brought 
up  in  the  Roval  nursery,  66.  Becomes 
chaplain  to  George  IV. ,67.  Is  robbed 
of  his  fiddles,  67.  They  are  recovered 
for  him  by  Barham,  68. 

Brewster,  Sir  David.  Asks  who  Crabbe 
i*.  235- 

Brummell,  Beau.     Anecdotes  of,  249. 

Buckingham,  Duke  of.  His  death  pre- 
dicted by  an  apparition,  9 ... 

Bulletin,  The.  172. 

Bushe,  Chief  Justice.  Remark  to  th« 
Duke  of  Richmond,  166. 


330 


INDEX. 


Byron,  Lady.  Her  character  as  drawn 
by  Harness,  185.  Byron's  devotion  to 
her,  1 86.  Tlve  world  commiserates  her, 
t%.  Her  friends  slander  Byron,  187. 
Weeps  when  she  sees  his  statue,  188. 
Curiosity  regarding  the  conversation  of 
Harness,  188.  Deficient  in  tact  and 
reflection,  193.  "  Why  did  she  marry 
Byron,"  193.  Did  not  understand  By- 
ron, 193. 

Byron,  Lord.  Tells  young  Hook  to 
knock  out  Mrs.  Drury's  eye,  37.  His 
kindness  to  Harness  at  Harrow,  179. 
Writes  a  sharp  letter  to  Harness,  180. 
Bees  his  pardon,  180.  Epigram  on 
Robert  Speer,  180.  His  friendship 
for  Harness,  181.  Desires  his  por- 
trait, 181.  Harness  at  Newstead, 
i  t.  Correcting  proof  of  "  Childe 
Harold,"  183.  Serious  conversa- 
tion of  Hodgson,  183.  In  London 
famous  184-  His  marriage,  184.  A 
victim  of  popular  feeling,  184.  His 
leaving  England  a  mistake,  185.  Char- 
acter of  Lady  Byron,  186.  His  devo- 
tion to  her,  186.  Gossip  against  him, 
1X7.  His  conduct  could  not  have  been 
all  bad,  188.  Lady  Byron  weeps  at 
the  sight  of  his  statue,  188.  Harness 
knew  nothing  but  good  of  him,  1X9. 
Generosity  to  Coleridge,  189.  Consid- 
eration to  servants,  1X9.  Attachment 
to  his  friends,  190.  Better  than  most 
young  men,  190  From  boyhood  his 
own  master,  190.  Morbid  love  of  a 
bad  reputation,  191.  Writes  paragraphs 
against  himself,  191.  Maligns  himself 
and  his  family,  191.  "  My  lather  cut 
his  throat,"  192.  Contradicted  by  Mrs. 
Villiers,  192.  Not  in  the  least  like 
his  bad  heroes,  193.  Mr.  Drury's 
knowledge  of  him,  191.  His  poetry 
too  strong  for  Harness,  193.  How  his 
marriage  was  brought  about,  193.  Miss 
Mitford's  question,  193.  Character  of 
I.  ulv  Byron,  193.  He  would  not  be 
driven,  194.  Harness's  opinion  uf 
"  Cain,"  194.  The  purity  of  hir  cor- 
respondence with  Harness.  196. 

Cambridge,  Duke  of.     His  eccentricity, 

Canister,  The.  A  specimen  of  Itarham's 
sarcasm,  n;. 

Cannon,  Edward,  Rev.  Story  of  the 
country  manager,  27.  Original  of  God- 
frey MOM  in  Hook's  "Maxwell,''  75. 
Brought  up  under  Lord  Thurlow,  75. 
Ch.ipliin  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  75. 
His  opinion  of  the  noble  art  of  fencing. 
7'>.  Qtie^lioned  by  the  I'rince  of 
Wales  as  to  his  singing,  76.  His  reply, 


77.  Episode  of  the  royal  snuff-box,  77. 
Condescension  of  George  IV.,  78. 
Knows  how  to  say  "  No,"  78.  Anec- 
dotes of  Lord  Thurlow,  78,  79.  George 
IV.  sends  him  a  check,  Si.  In  pawn 
at  an  inn,  8t  Sits  up  late  with  Theo- 
dore Hook,  81.  His  hostility  to  Dr. 
Blomfield,  82.  Burns  a  will  that  would 
have  made  him  rich,  83.  Profits  in  the 
end  by  his  disinterestedness,  84.  His 
death,  85.  Anecdote  of  Indian  officer, 
86.  His  snuff-taking.  87.  Jest  on  the 
spouting  of  poet  Fitzgerald,  96.  Story 
of  Townsend,  the  Bow  Street  officer 
and  a  Jew  boy,  1 19. 

Caul  field.  Captain.  Mimicry  of  Suett's 
voice  from  the  mourning  coach,  114. 

Child,  The  Sentimental.  "  Bless  you, 
dear  little  piggy,"  158. 

Chorley,  H.  F.  Withdraws  from  editing 
Miss  Mitford's  correspondence,  205. 

"  Clovemook,  The  Chronicles  of,"  266. 

Club,  The   Beefsteak.    Barham  dines  at, 

122. 

Club,  The  r.arrick.     Poetical  address  to, 

,*7<: 
Coleridge,  S.  T.     Byron's  generosity  to, 

189.  At  the  Gillmans,  237.  How  he 
obtained  opium,  237.  What  Words- 
worth thought  of  his  oration,  237.  The 
terror  and  amusement  of  children,  2  ;••(. 

Cooper,  the  actor.  D.  L.  T.,  bombastic 
prologue  given  to,  21. 

Crabbe,  Geo.     In  Edinburgh,  235. 

Croker,  John  Wilson.  Specimen  of  his 
impertinent  wit,  35.  Presents  Cannon 
with  a  snuff-box,  88. 

Cruikshank,  George.  Preaches  teetotal- 
ism,  316.  At  a  costcrmonger's  supper, 
317.  Discovers  gin  in  his  neighbor- 
hood, 318.  How  lie  drew  Fagin,  31*. 

Curran,  J.  P.  Invited  to  dine  with  Lord 
Thurlow,  79.  His  opinion  of  the  Irish 
bar,  80. 

Diggle,  Charles.    Offers  the  first  speaker 

a  tart,  52. 
Digniim,  The  Brothers.    Their  dilemma 

in  regard  to  asses'  milk,  88. 
Dinmont,  Dandy.     Original  of,  49. 
"Doctor  Toe."     Epigram  at  the  expense 

of,  128. 

Dodds,  Met;.  Original  of,  46. 
Donatty,  Mrs.  Murder  of,  68. 
"  Douglas/'  The  play  of,  minus  Young 

Norval,  27. 
Doyle,  Richard.     Makes  the  frontispiece 

of  "  Punch,"  394. 
Drury,  Rev.  Henry.     Conversation  with 

Harness  about  Byron,  192. 
Dutchman,  Flying.     Seen  by  Hook  and 

others,  33. 


INDEX. 


331 


Eldon,  Lord.  Anecdote  of  his  wife's 
closeness,  62. 

Family,  The  Mayhew,  298.  Edward, 
his  writings,  298.  Confined  by  a  para- 
lytic affection,  299.  Death,  300.  Julius 
assists  his  brother  Edward  with  draw- 
i"KS,  300.  Augustus,  his  writings,  301. 

Fanshawe,  Catherine.  Her  "  Memori- 
als "  edited  by  Harness,  226.  "  The 
letter  H,"  227.  "Speech  of  the  Mem- 
ber for  Oldham,"  228. 

Fawcett,  John.   Anecdote  of  Mr.  Irby,  85. 

Fish.     A  strange,  89. 

Foster,  Birket.  Draws  fur  "  Punch/' 
294. 

Foster,  Tony.  Incidents  of  his  death 
real,  49. 

Fraser,  Thomas.  Dines  Jerrold,  Poole, 
and  Mahony.  278. 

Frost,  John.  'Black-balled  by  the  Royal 
Society,  113.  What  he  accomplished 
by  wearing  a  uniform,  114.  Interview 
with  Duke  of  St.  Albans,  115. 

Gattie,  the  actor.  Hoaxed  by  a  burlesque 
prologue,  21. 

Geese.     An  old  pair  of,  90. 

Gemmell,  Andrew.     Original  of,  47. 

George  IV.  "  Kings  never  does :  we  lets 
'em  go  free,''  140.  Anecdote  of,  168. 

Ghost  Story.  The  Blomberg,  63.  The 
Portsmouth,  105. 

Gilbert,  John.  Jerroldrs  objection  to  his 
working  for  "  Punch,"  295. 

Graham,  W.  Editor  of  "  The  Literary 
Museum,''  93.  A  forger,  94.  Smit- 
ten with  Miss  Foote,  94.  A  debaucher, 
95.  Price  promises  not  to  betray  him, 
95.  Forges  again  and  absconds  to 
America,  96. 

Grenville,  Mr.  Lord  Alvanley's  jest  on 
his  dining-room,  122. 

Hare,  A.     Poem  on,  by  Barham,  61. 

Harley,  J.  P.  Loan  of  costume  to,  by 
Barham,  55. 

Harness,  William.  Acquaintance  with 
Byron  at  Harrow,  179.  Byron  his  pro- 
tector, 179.  Byron  writes  him  a  sharp 
letter,  180.  Begs  his  pardon,  180. 
His  lameness,  181.  Byron's  affection 
for  him,  181.  Byron  desires  his  pict- 
ure, 181.  Visits  Byron  at  Newstead, 
183.  Reproves  Byron  for  his  thought- 
lessness, 184.  Byron  sends  him  his 
poems,  184.  Renews  his  friendship 
with  Byron  in  London,  184.  His  opin- 
ion of  Byron's  leaving  England,  185. 
Knows  nothing  of  Byron's  matrimonial 
quarrel,  185-  Character  of  Lady  By- 
ron, 185.  He  knows  no  ill  of  Byron, 


189.  His  ^minion  of  Byr.-.n's  attach- 
ment to  his  friends,  190.  What  Byron 
said  to  him  about  his  family,  192.  His 
defense  of  Byron,  192.  Conversation 
with  Drury,  192.  Finds  Byron's  poetry 
too  strong  for  him,  193.  His  opinion 
of  Byron's  marriage,  193.  His  kindly 
view  of  Byron's  character,  194.  De- 
nounces Byron's  later  writings,  194. 
Extracts  from  one  of  his  lectures,  194. 
The  playmate  of  Miss  Mitford,  196. 
Letter  to  Dr.  Mitford,  197.  Writing 
charades,  198.  Letter  to  Miss  Mitford, 
198.  "The  Wife  of  Antwerp,"  199. 
Letter  from  Miss  Mitford,  201.  His 
religious  views  opposed  to  those  of  Miss 
Mitford,  202.  Dislike  of  Dr.  Mitford, 
202.  Letter  from  Mrs.  Opie  about  Miss 
Mitford's  pecuniary  difficulties,  203. 
Miss  Mitford's  opinion  of  him,  204. 
Her  desire  that  he  should  collect  her 
correspondence,  205.  Difficulties  of  the 
undertaking,  205.  Trouble  with  her 
servants,  206.  Her  Life  declined  by 
different  publishers,  207.  Pilgrimage 
to  Stratford,  207.  The  church  clock 
strikes  at  night,  208.  Restores  the  in- 
scription on  Shakespeare's  monument, 
208.  His  edition  of  Shakespeare,  208. 
Miss  Miiford's  opinion  of  it,  208.  Re- 
marks on  the  parts  played  by  Shake- 
speare, 210-  Shakespeare's  supposed 
lameness,  211.  Remarks  on  the  text  of 
Shakespeare,  211.  His  description  of 
the  Globe  Theatre,  214.  His  impres- 
sions of  Mrs.  Siddons,  217.  On  the 
locality  of  Prospero's  Island,  218.  Let- 
ters to,  from  the  Kembles  in  America, 
219.  Friendship  for  the  Keans,  225. 
Edits  "  Memorials  of  Catherine  Fan- 
shawe," 226.  Affection  for  servants, 
230.  Remarks  on  the  translation  of 
Bible  texts,  232.  Acquaintance  with 
Edward  Irving,  232.  Early  reminis- 
cences, 234.  Anecdotes  of  Paley,  234. 
Admiration  of  Crabbe,  235.  With  Scott 
at  Westminster  Hall,  236.  Acquaint- 
ance with  Coleridge,  237.  His  opinion 
of  Lamb,  238.  Acquaintance  with 
Sheridan,  239.  Acquaintance  with 
Rogers,  239.  Acquaintance  with  Wash- 
ington Irving,  241.  Acquaintance  with 
Hook,  241.  Acquaintance  with  Henrv 
Hope,  243.  His  presentiment  of  Hope's 
death,  244.  Acquaintance  with  Tal- 
fourd,  245.  Dinner  at  the  Talfourds, 
246.  Dines  with  Thackeray,  246.  Ac- 
quaintance with  Milman,  247.  Visits 
a  prison  chaplain,  248.  Anecdotes  re- 
lated by  Harness,  248. 
Hart,  Major.  Effect  of  mesmerism  upon, 
72- 


332 


IXDEX. 


Hertford,  Marquis  of.     Hit  income,  33. 

Hill,  Thomas.  Original  of  Mr.  Hull 
and  Paul  Pry,  91.  Humbugged  by 
Price,  92. 

Hine,    H.    G.      Makes    small    cuts    for  , 
"  Punch,'1  193. 

Hodder,  George.  Becomes  acquainted  | 
with  Henry  Sl.iyhew,  253.  Introduced  , 
to  Douglas  Jerrold,  254.  Notes  of  j 
Jerrold  to,  256.  Visits  Jerrold  at  Bou-  ; 
logne,  260.  Remarks  on  J  errold's 
plays,  263.  Visits  Jerrold  at  Herne 
Bay,  265.  On  an  oyster  party  with  Jer- 
rold and  others,  265.  Is  sub-editor  ol" 
the  "  Illuminated  Magazine,"  266. 
Note  of  Jerrold  t",  about  his  contribu- 
tions, 267.  Anecdote  of  his  sister,  272. 
Goes  to  Paris  with  Jerrold,  274.  Visits 
Chatsworth,  281.  At  the  celebration 
of  Jen-old's  fiftieth  birthday,  283.  In 
Jerrold's  death-chamber,  284.  Henry 
Mayhew's  projection  of  Punch,"  286. 
Acquaintance  with  Horace  Mayhew, 
296.  Leech  makes  drawings  for  his 
"  Sketches  of  Life  and  Character,''  303. 
Acquaintance  with  Albert  Smith,  307. 
Acquaintance  with  Kenny  Meadows, 
313-  Receives  a  letter  from  Hood,  3 19. 
Invited  to  dine  with  Leigh  Hunt,  320. 
Hunt  gives  him  a  ride  in  his  fly,  322. 
Loses  a  MS.,  324.  Meets  Sheridan 
Knowles  in  a  coffee-room,  325. 

Hodg«m,  Francis.  Visits  Byron  at  New- 
stead.  183. 

Hook,  Theodore.  Barham's  acquaintance 
with,  19.  Caricature  of,  in  "  Coning- - 
by,"  20.  Repeat*  an  unintelligible 
prologue  and  sermon,  22.  Improvises 
a  burietta,  23.  Compared  with  Bar- 
ham,  26.  Sings  an  extempore  song 
against  Cannon,  27.  Altercation  with 
Cannon,  28.  The  original  of ''  Gervase 
Skinner,"  28.  Hoaxing  stage-coach 
travellers,  29  Hoaxing  old  lady  and 
her  daughters,  30.  Martha,  the  gypsy, 

32.  His  opinion   of  the    Marquis  of 
Hertford,  33-     Sees  the  Flying  Dutch- 
man,   .13.     Story    of    Irish     servant, 

33.  Story    of    old   Irishwomin    who 
cl  limed      her    husband's     body,     34. 
Trumpeting  Sheridan  in  "  The  Wood 
Demon,''  3$.     "  Mr.  H '•  Punch,'' 

36.  Put  up  to  mischief  at  school  by 
Byron,    37.      Hi*  two   daughters,    37. 
Anecdote   of  Sir   George    Warrender, 

37.  Dines    with   Barliam,    39.      His 
fos»     of     appetite,     42.      Last     days 
and    death,     44.      Lines    left    at    his 
house  by  liarham,  133.     Acquaintance 
with  Harness,  241.     Opinion  of  waltz- 
ing. 242.     Mistaken  fora  Prince,  242. 

Huoton,  Charles.    Letter  to  Hodder,  264. 


Hope,  Henry.  Acquaintance  with  Har- 
ness, 243.  Remark  of  Rothschild  to, 
241.  Anecdote  of  his  sons'  tutor,  244. 
Harness's  presentiment  of  h.s  death, 
244- 

HMM,  Warrender.  Secret  chamber  dis- 
covered in,  51. 

Hnwley,  Archbishop.     His  to:ist,  161. 

"  H,  The  Letter."  By  Catherine  Fan- 
shawe,  227- 

Hume,  Thomas.  His  intimacv  with  Bar- 
ham,  99.  Instance  of  his  drv  humor, 
too.  Tragical  death  of  his  first  wile's 
father,  102.  Poetical  epistle  to,  by 
B.uh.tm,  152. 

Hunt,  Leigh.  Hodder  invited  to  dine 
with  him,  320.  Personal  appearance, 
321.  His  pronunciation  of  Byron,  321. 
Sings  a  barcarollt,  321.  Gives  Hod- 
der a  ride  in  his  fly,  322.  Starts  the 
"  London  Journal,"  323.  Loses  a  MS. 
of  Hodder's,  324. 

Hughes,  Dr.  Anecdote  of  Scott,  45. 
Visited  by  Sir  Walter  Scott,  48. 

Hushes,  Mrs.  Barium's  letter  to  about 
Hook's  last  days,  42.  Relates  a  ghost 
story  to  Barham,  105.  Another  ghost 
story,  119-  Sends"  My  Cousin  Nich- 
olas to  Mi.  Blackwood,  126. 

Imagination.     The  effect  of,  71. 

Irving,  Edward.     His  acquaintance  with 

Harness,  232. 
Irving,  Washington.     Acquaintance  with 

Harness,  241. 
Island,  Prospero's.     Its  locality,  218. 

Jeaflreson,  John  Cordy.  Letter  to  Hod- 
der about  a  projected  club,  257. 

Jeffrey,  Francis.  His  conversation  com- 
pared with  Scott's,  138. 
{ekyll,  Joseph.  Anecdote  of,  249. 
errold,  Douglas.  Introduced  to  Hod- 
der, 254.  Jests  on  Henry  Mayhew's 
black  suit,  254-  His  bitterness,  255. 
Notes  to  Hodder,  256.  A  clubable 
man,  256.  At  Boulogne,  239.  Invites 
Hodder  to  visit  him,  260.  "  E^ad,  I  'II 
have  a  dip,"  261.  Writes  "  The  Pris- 
oner of  Avar  "  and  "  Gertrude's  Cher- 
ries," 262.  Characteristics  of  his  plays, 
20V  At  Herne  B.iy,  263.  Write* 
"  The  Chronicles  of  Cloveniook,''  266. 
Note  to  Hodder,  267.  Attacked  by 
rheumatism,  J'>S.  "  I  am  not  going  In 
die,"  269.  Tries  the  water  cure  at 
Great  Malvcrn,  269.  Termination  of 
the  "  Illuminated  Maga/ine,"  270. 
Starts  "  Douglas  lerrold'*  Shillm-: 
Magazine,"  271.  Write*  "  St.  Giles,'' 
etc.,  272.  Start*  "  Douglas  Jem-Id's 
Weekly  Newspaper,*'  274  (iocs  tu 


INDEX. 


333 


Paris  to  work  up  the  Revolution.  175. 
"  i  don't  want  facts,"  276.  His  favor- 
ite wine,  277  "  Don't  come  to  France 
to  eat  roast  beef,"  177.  Meets  Poole 
and  Mahony,  278.  Burns  his  letters  of 
introduction,  278.  His  opinion  of  mar- 
riage, 2?g.  Literary  advice,  27g. 
"  Time  Works  Wonders,"  280.  His 
children,  281.  Gives  a  ball  in  honor  of 
his  son  Edmund,  2$2.  Celebrates  his 
fiftieth  birthday,  283.  Baily,  the  sculp- 
tor, makes  his  bust,  283.  Stricken  with 
mortal  illness,  283.  Death,  284.  Fu- 
neral, 28.^. 

Jerrold,  William  Blanchard,  259. 

Jerry,  Barham's  cat.     Poem  about,  142. 

Jones,  the  tailor.  The  sort  of  gun  he 
shot  with,  249. 

Keans,  The.  Harness's  friendship  for, 
225. 

Kemble,  Charles.  Letter  to  Harness, 
223. 

Kemble,  Fanny.  Letter  to  Harness  from 
America,  219.  Her  description  of  Bos- 
ton, 221. 

Kiddy,  drunken  prompter,  anecdote  of, 
85. 

King,  Thomas.     Anecdote,  137. 

Knowles,  James  Sheridan.  Inspires  re- 
spect among  actors.  325.  Jerrold  ques- 
tions him  about  The  Hunchback,'' 
326.  "  I  never  read  Shakespeare,1'  326. 
Makes  a  bull,  326.  Puzzled  by  Leman 
Rede  and  Mark  Lemon,  326.  Forgets 
his  part  in  "  Henry  VIII.,"  327. 

Knox,  Dr.  Vicesimus.  His  story  with 
regard  to  the  word  "  clause,"  166. 

Laird,  The  drunken.     Anecdote  of,  50. 

Lamb,  Charles.     Anecdotes  of,  238. 

"  Lammermoor,  The  Bride  of."  Main 
incidents  true,  46. 

Lawrence,  Sir  Thomas.     Funeral  of,  112. 

Lee,  Sir  Henry.     Portrait  of,  47. 

Leech,  John.  Makes  drawings  for  a 
sketch  of  Hodder's  in  "  Bentley's  Mis- 
cellany," 303.  Illustrates  a  book  for 
Hodder,  303.  What  his  friends  called 
him.  304.  He  dines  some  of  the  staff 
of  ''Punch,"  304.  What  Jerrold  said 
of  his  singing,  305. 

Leigh,  Percival.  Asked  to  contribute  to 
"  Punch,"  287  Contributes  a  macaron- 
ic poem,  292. 

Linley,  William.  Corrected  by  Barham 
while  spouting  "  Macbeth,"  129.  Va- 
rious readings  of  "  hurly  burly,"  130. 
Proposed  reading  of  Beazley,  131. 
Hill's  old  copies,  132. 

Louis  XIV.  Receives  a  ghostly  mes- 
sage, 98. 


Lutirell,  Henry.  Kpigiam  of  Prince  Re- 
gent's illness,  90. 

Macbeth.   Criticism  of  a  French  actor,  168. 

Macready,  W.  C.  Anecdote  of,  in  Amer- 
ica, 167. 

"  Magazine,  Douglas  Jen-old's  Shilling," 
271. 

M  ihony,  Rev.  Francis  (Father  Prout). 
Seeks  Jerrold's  acquaintance  at  Paris, 
278. 

Maintenon,  Madame  de.  Supposed  to 
have  tricked  Louis  XIV.,  99. 

Mathews,  Charles,  the  elder.  Acquaint- 
ance with  Barham,  103.  His  story  of 
the  Irish  surgeon's  horse-race,  103. 
Account  of  Suett's  funeral,  123.  Dole- 
ful time  at  an  inn,  125. 

Maule,  Judge.     Anecdote  of,  168. 

Mayhew,  Henry.  Fondness  for  chemical 
experiments,  253.  Jerrold's  jest  on  his 
black  suit,  254.  Projects  •'  Punch," 
286.  Asks  Douglas  Jerrold  to  con- 
tribute to  it,  287.  His  works,  296. 
At  "  Punch's  Saturday "  gatherings, 
297.  Note  to  Hodder,  297. 

Meadows,  Kenny.  Calls  on  Thomas 
Moore,  313.  Designs  for  "  Punch," 
314.  The  blessings  of  peace,  314. 
Fondness  for  the  country,  314.  Anec- 
dote of  Coleridge,  315.  jest  on  the 
children  of  a  friend,  315.  Not  the 
worse  for  drinking,  317. 

Mesmerism.     Curious  case  of,  72. 

Middleton,  Lord.  Cool  advice  to  Gun- 
ter,  33. 

Minister,  The  placed.  His  eloquence 
spoiled,  48. 

Mitford,  Mary  Russell.  Her  pertinent 
question  in  regard  to  Lady  Byron,  193. 
Harness  her  early  playmate,  196.  Her 
childish  portrait,  196.  Extravagance  of 
Dr.  Mitford,  197.  She  publishes  Har- 
ness's charades  in  "  Blackwood,"  19*. 
Letter  from  Harness,  198.  Opinion  of 
his  "  Wife  of  Antwerp,"  199.  Her  pre- 
dilection for  the  Drama,  201.  Dedi- 
cates her  "Country  Stories"  to  Har- 
ness, 201.  Her  religious  views,  202. 
Her-  poverty,  203.  Her  opinion  of 
Harness.  204.  Makes  him  her  literary 
executor,  205.  Her  economy  in  paper, 
205.  Makes  her  servants  her  residuary 
legatees,  205.  Their  claims,  206.  Her 
Life  declined  by  several  publishers, 
207.  Talfourd's  impoliteness  about 
"  Rienzi,"  245. 
Milman,  Henry  Hart.  Who  made  his 

"  Fall  of  Jerusalem,"  247. 
Moncrief,  J.   W.     His  dramatization  of 
"Jack   Sheppard,''    157.     Controversy 
w  th  Dickens,  157. 


334 


INDEX. 


Monomania.     A  case  of,  59. 

Moore,  Thomas •  His  account  of  George 
IV.'s  visit  to  Ireland,  138.  His  com- 
parison of  Jeffrey  and  Scott,  138.  An- 
ecd»le  of  little  Ktun  boy,  139.  La- 
ments that  the  prize  gained  by  his  son 
would  be  of  no  use  to  him,  i  v»-  His 
meeting  O'Connell,  139.  U'KrienV 
hostility  to  him,  139.  His  meeting 
Hook,  140.  He  quotes  Lord  Lans- 
downe's  description  of  Sydney  Smith, 
140.  One  of  his  stories  of  Scott,  140. 

Murphy,  Serjeant  His  scriptural-legal 
ioke,  166. 

"My  Cousin  Nicholas."  Sent  to  Mr. 
black  wood  by  Mrs.  Hughes,  126. 

"  Newspaper,    Douglas  Jerrold's  Week 

ly,"  274- 

CXBeirne,  Rev.  Thomas  Lewis.  Sermon 
written  for  by  Sheridan,  164.  Its  re- 
sult, 164. 

O'Connell,  Daniel.  A  blackguarding 
from,  167. 

Officer,  Indian.     Anecdote  of,  86. 

Oflbr,  George.  Shows  his  library  to  the 
Duke  of  Sussex.  163. 

Oldbuck,  Jonathan.     Original  of,  47. 

Opic.  Mrs.  Amelia.  Letter  in  reference 
to  Miss  Mitford's  pecuniary  difficulties, 
203. 

Ottley,  Mr.    One  of  his  stories,  161. 

Paley,  William.     Anecdotes  of,  234. 

Paradox,  A,  92. 

Paxton,  Joseph.  His  design  for  the 
Great  Exhibition,  281. 

Pecoil,  M.  Starved  to  death  among  his 
treasures,  50. 

Pew.  A.     Of  many  owners,  165. 

Pickled  Cockles.  Story  of  a  thieving 
magpie,  150. 

Poole,  John.    Meets  Jerrold  in  Paris,  278. 

Power,  Tyrone.     A  bon  mot  of,  134. 

Present.  The  unlucky,  i«8. 

Price,  Stephen.  Slips  on  to  bed,  leaving 
Hook  and  Cannon,  82.  His  sea-ser- 
pent yarn,  92. 

Prologue,  The  absurd,  given  to  Gattie  the 
actor,  21. 

Prologue,  The  bombastic,  given  to  Coop- 
er, 21. 

Prophecy,  A  fulfilled,  51. 

"  Punch.''  The  origin  of,  286.  Pro- 
jected by  Henry  Mayhew,  2S6.  List  of 
suggested  artists  and  contributors,  287. 
Principal  contributors  to  first  number, 
288.  Prospectus,  289.  Day  of  publi- 
cation, 291.  Its  early  struggles,  291. 
"Sodalita*  I'unchica/'  202.  Acces- 
sion to  it*  pVlori.il  -.trrngth.  i  M.  Bir- 


ket   Foster,   294.      Its  early  directors, 
294. 

Purgatory.  The  opinion  of  a  Catholic 
pnest,  249. 

Queen  of  the  Belgians.  Visits  the  library 
at  St.  Paul's,  156. 

Rector,  A  country.    Anecdote  of,  248. 

Rector,  The  free  and  easy,  58. 

Richard  III.  New  reading  by  Catesby, 
1 68. 

Richards,  Miss.  Apparition  appears  to 
her  dairy-maid,  120.  The  result,  121. 

Ricketls,  Mrs.     Her  ghost  siory,  143. 

Rogers.  Criticism  of  his  servant,  240. 
The  Chimney  Story,  240.  Dislikes  writ- 
ing letters  of  condolence,  240.  Remark 
on  the  marriage  of  a  friend,  240.  On 
Moore's  taste  for  writing  biography,  241. 

Samson,  Dominie,  original  of,  4^. 

Sandford,  Harry.  Quizzes  an  old  gen- 
tleman, 89.  Misquotes  Shakespeare, 
89.  Duke  of  Wellington's  head,  90. 

Satan.  Driven  out  of  Alice  Norringtnn, 
56. 

Scott,  Reginald.  His  account  of  a  case 
of  witchcraft,  56. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter.  Defense  of  a  Scottish 
clergyman.  46.  Proposes  a  benefit  to 
Terry  the  actor,  4*>.  Main  incidents  of 
the  "  Bride  of  Lammermoor "  true.  46. 
Who  Meg  Dodds  was,  46.  Who  Jon- 
athan Oldbuck  and  Andrew  Gemmell 
were,  47.  Wayland  Smith's  attendant, 
47.  Sir  Henry  Lee  and  his  dog, 
47.  On  the  way  to  Malta,  48.  Anec- 
dote of  country  minister,  48.  Who 
Dominie  Sampson  was,  48.  Who  Dan- 
die  Dinmont  was,  49.  Tony  Foster's 
death,  taken  from  Due  dc  St.  Simon's 
memoirs,  49  Death  of  Lady  Johnson, 
jo.  Anecdote  of  drunken  laird,  50. 
McKinnon  looks  gash,"  50.  A  true 
prophecy,  51.  His  visit  toWarrender 
House,  51.  Extricates  himself  from  .1 
a  ghostly  dilemma,  98.  Denies  haying 
written  ''Old  Mortality"  and  reviews 
it  in  the  "  Quarterly,"  123.  His  con- 
versation compared  with  Jeffrey'- 
Harness  makes  way  for  liim  in  ' 
minster  Hall,  236.  His  broad  Scouli 
dialect,  236. 

Shakespeare,  William.    Harness's  edition 
of,  208.     As  m  player,  210.     His  sup- 
posed lameness,  211.     Goodness  of  his 
writing,  211. 
Sheridan,  R.  B.   His  vanity,  239.   Makes 

hi*  love-letters  do  duty  twice,  239. 
Siddon*,  Sar.ih     Her  imprcs-.ii in  on  H.ir- 

I1P1«,    ?I7  AllM-llulP   of,    217. 


INDEX. 


335 


St.  Simon,  Due  de.  His  conjectures  re- 
garding Madame  de  Maintenon,  99. 

Simplicity,  Rustic.  "  They  never  dug  up 
ready-made  pots,"  62. 

Sixpence,  A  song  of,  155. 

Skinner,  Gervase,  original  of,  28. 

Smith,  Albert.  His  first  contributions  to 
"  Punch,"  306.  Gives  Hodder  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  Jules  Janin,  307. 
Thinks  of  becoming  a  farmer,  308. 
With  Thackeray  at  the  Cyder  Cellars, 
309.  Description  of  Boulogne,  310. 
Starts  for  Chamouni,  3:1.  Grandilo- 
quent invitation  to  his  show,  311. 

Smith,  Sydney.  Remark  about  Hook's 
priming  himself,  36.  "  The  cool  of  the 
evening,"  36.  Takes  possession  of  his 
stall  at  St.  Paul's,  118.  Disowns 
"  Peter  Plymley's  Letters,"  123.  His 
brother  Robert's  translation  of  Liberia! 
sub  rege  fio,  134.  Proposed  motto 
for  the  "  Edinburgh  Review,"  134. 
What  he  would  do  in  a  religious  war, 
135.  Averse  to  ballooning,  135.  His 
wish  in  regard  to  country  cousins,  140. 
Colburn  wishes  him  to  write  a  novel, 
162.  "A  page  of  eulogy,"  167.  His 
shampooing,  167.  Bon  mot  at  his  ex- 
pense by  Lydia  White,  243. 

Smith,  Wayland.     His  attendant,  47. 

Smugglers.     Barham  among,  57. 

Sneyd,  Mr.  Nicknamed  bv  George  IV., 
79.  Invites  Curran  to  dine  with  Lord 
Thurlow,  79.  Snubbed  by  Lord  Thur- 
low,  80. 

Somerset,  Lord  Webb.  Author  of  a  note 
to  "  Rokeby,"  49. 

Southey,  Robert.  Account  of  his  intro- 
duction to  Duchess  of  St.  Albnns,  91. 
Denies  the  authorship  of  "  The  Doc- 
tor," 123. 

Speer,  Robert.   Byron's  epigram  on,  180. 

St  Albans,  Duchess  of.  Threatens  Hor- 
ace Twiss,  91. 

Suett,  Richard.  Mathews's  account  of 
his  funeral,  123.  Captain  Caul  field's 
mimicry  of  the  dead  actor's  voice,  123. 
Indecent  behavior  of  a  boy  at  the  fu- 
neral, 123. 

Sugden,  Sir  Edward.  Croker's  impu- 
dence to.  35. 

Surgeon,  Barham's.  His  medical  jargon, 
170. 

Sussex,  Duke  of.  Opinion  of  book  col- 
lectors, 163. 

Swindler,  An  accomplished,  153. 


Talfourd,  Thomas  Noon.  His  head 
turned  by  the  success  of  "  Ion,"  245. 
Sneers  at  "  Rienzi,"  245.  Always  saw 
"  Ion  "  played.  246.  Carelessness  of 
his  household  affairs,  246- 

Talleyrand,  Prince  de.    Anecdote  of,  134. 

Tell.  "William.     Origin  of,  57. 

Terrier,  An  intelligent,  167. 

Terry,  Daniel,  Scott  undertakes  to  write 
a  prologue  for  his  benefit,  46. 

Theatre,  The  Globe.  Harness's  descrip- 
tion of,  214. 

Thesiger,  Mr.  "  An  uncommonly  good 
Cryer,"  167. 

Townsend,  the  Bow  Street  officer.  Ex- 
amines a  Jew  boy,  119. 

Thurlow,  Lord.  Early  patron  of  Can- 
non, 75.  How  he  beat  George  IV., 
78-  His  opinion  of  Sir  John  Lade,  79 
His  genius  hunter,  Mr.  Sneyd,  79.  Has 
Curran  to  dinner,  79.  Curran:s  denun- 
ciation of  the  Irish  bar,  80  His  snub- 
bing Mr.  Sneyd,  80. 

Trelawney,  E.  D.  His  extreme  opinions, 
138- 

Villiers,  Mrs.  Contradicts  Byron's  story 
about  his  father's  death,  192. 

Wallack,  J.  W.  Explains  Shakespeare 
to  a  French  actor,  168. 

Walpole,  Edward.  "  Eating  deeds  as 
well  as  words,"  138. 

Warrender,  Sir  George.  What  his  but- 
ler said  to  him,  37.  Opinion  of  Croker, 
38- 

Whately,  Archbishop.  Extract  of  a  let- 
ter from,  161. 

White,  Lydia.  Her  motives  for  personal 
adornment,  243.  Anecdotes  of,  243. 

Wigan,  Mr.  and  Mrs-  Guests  of  Jen-old, 
262.  "  Gertrude's  Cherries  "  written 
for,  262. 

Wilmot,  Dr.  Poetical  invitation  to  din- 
ner, 60. 

Wilson,  John.  Thrashes  a  lord  and  his 
friends  for  rudeness  to  Mrs.  Wilson 
and  her  sister,  97. 

Witchcraft.     Case  of  at  Westwell,  56. 

Wood,  Mr.  Story  about  dying  on  geame 
•  feathers,  151. 

Yates,  Frederick  Henry.  Forgets  the 
name  of  his  friend,  135.  He  comes  to 
dinner,  136.  His  name  not  discovered, 
136- 


"Infinite  riches  in  a  little  room." —MARLOWE. 


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EDWARD     E.     MORRIS,     M.A., 

Of  Lincoln  College,  Oxford. 
Head  Master  of  the  Bedfordshire   Middle-Class  Public  School,   &c. 


Each  1  vol.  16mo.  with  Outline  Maps.    Price  per  volume,  in  cloth,  $1.00. 


TT  ISTORIES  of  countries  are  rapidly  becoming  so  numerous  that  it  is  almost  impos 
J.  1  sible  for  the  most  industrious  student  to  keep  pace  with  them.  Such  works  are, 
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wants  of  this  very  numerous  class  of  readers  that  the  Epochs  of  History  has  been 
projected.  The  series  will  comprise  a  number  of  compact,  handsomely  printed  man- 
uals, prepared  by  thoroughly  competent  hands,  each  volume  complete  in  itself,  and 
sketching  succintly  the  most  important  epochs  in  the  world's  history,  always  making 
the  history  of  a  nation  subordinate  to  this  more  general  idea.  No  attempt  will  bt 
made  to  recount  all  the  events  of  any  given  period.  The  aim  will  be  to  bring  out  in 
the  clearest  light  the  salient  incidents  and  features  of  each  epoch.  Special  attention 
will  be  paid  to  the  literature,  manners,  state  of  knowledge,  and  all  those  character- 
istics which  exhibit  the  life  of  a  people  as  well  as  the  policy  of  their  rulers  during 
any  period.  To  make  the  text  more  readily  intelligible,  outline  maps  will  be  given 
with  each  volume,  and  where  this  arrangement  is  desirable  they  will  be  distributed 
throughout  the  text  so  as  to  be  more  easy  of  reference.  A  series  of  works  based 
upon  this  general  plan  can  not  fail  to  be  widely  useful  in  popularizing  history  as 
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ing more  ambitious  works  because  of  their  magnitude,  will  naturally  turn  to  thece 
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spective of  events,  and  in  schools  they  will  be  of  immense  service  as  text  books, — a 
poiol  which  shall  be  kept  constantly  in  view  in  their  preparation. 

THE  FOLLOWING   VOLUMES  ARE  NOW  READY: 

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The   CRUSADES.     By  the  Rev.   G.   W.  Cox,   M.A.,  Author  of  the   "  History  o. 
Greece." 

The  THIRTY  YEARS'  WAR,  I6i&-i648.    By  SAMUKL  RAWSON  GARDINML 
13ff~  Copies  sent  fast-paid,  on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  Publisher*, 


A  New  Narrative   Poem 


BY 


Dr.    J.     G.     HOLLAND. 


TIIK 

MISTRESS  OF  THE  MANSE. 

BY  DR.  J.  G.  HOLLAND, 

Author  of  "Bitter-Sweet,"   "  fCalhrina,"   "Arthur  Bontiuastle," 
"  Titcomb's   Letters,"    <&¥.,    <Sr¥. 

One     Vol.,     tamo,     Cloth $1.50. 

THIS  is  the  first  narrative  poem  written  by  DR.  Hoi  LAND  since  the 
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beside  tliat  and  "  BITTER-SWEET."  The  scene  of  the  "  MISTRESS  OF 
THE  MANSE  "  is  laid  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson.  It  is  a  love-story 
beginning  where  so  many  leave  off,  at  marriage ;  it  abounds  in  striking 
pictures  of  natural  scenery ;  it  is  full  of  the  philosophy  of  life  which 
comes  from  a  pure  experience  ;  and  it  is  distinguished  by  all  that  compre- 
hension of  the  poetic  in  every-day  life,  and  all  that  impulse  and  vitality 
which  have  from  the  beginning  characterized  the  writings  of  its  author. 
This  is  the  first  long  poem  by  DR.  HOLLAND  written  in  rhyme  instead  of 
blank  verse,  the  stanza  chosen  being  the  same  as  that  used  by  him  in  the 
introduction  to  "  BITTER-SWEET." 


DH.    HOLLAND'S    WORKS. 

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HUB  TO  VOUNQ  PEOPLE,  1  60 
GOLD     FOIL,    bammervd    from 

Inr  Proverb*,    .        .        .       1  78 
•LESSONS  IN   LIFE,         .        .       1  75 


'•PLAIN  TALKS  on  Kumilmr  Sub-  "  Knthrlna,-  "Marble 


jecU, 17B 

•LETTERS  TO  THE.  JONESES,       1  76 


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Till:  MAKI'.l.i:  rilOPHECV.  and 
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A  New  Narrativ 

BY 

Dr.     J.     G.     HOLJL, 


THK 

MISTRESS  OF  THE 

BY  DR.  J.  G.  HOLLANJ 

Author  of  "Bitter-Sweet,^   "Kathrina,"  "  Ar 
"  Titffftap's   Letters,"    &v.,    <Sr 

One     Vol.,     i2mo,     Cloth,       .... 

THIS  is  the  first  narrative  poem  written  by  DR. 
appearance  of  "  KATHRINA,"  and  it  is  sure  to  ta 
beside  tliat  and  "  BITTER-SWEET."  The  scene  of 
THE  MANSE"  is  laid  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudsoi. 
beginning  where  so  many  leave  off,  at  marriage ;  i: 
pictures  of  natural  scenery  ;  it  is  full  of  the  phil. 
comes  from  a  pure  experience  ;  and  it  is  distiii<,'uislici 
hension  of  the  poetic  in  every-day  life,  and  all  that 
which  have  from  the  beginning  characterized  the  \ 
This  is  the  first  long  poem  by  DR.  HOLLAND  writte 
blank  verse,  the  stanza  chosen  being  the  same  as  the 
introduction  to  "  BITTER-SWEET." 


DR.    HOLLAND'S    WC 

Each    in    One    Volume    12m 
ARTHUR   BONNICA8TLE.     One  vol.  12mo 


»BITTER-S\VEBT;  aPocro,       .    $150 
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•  i.rrrEHS  TO  YOUNU  i 


FOIL,    hammered    from 
'.nr  Proverbs,    . 
•LBSSONB  IN    LIFE, 
•PLAIN   TALKS  on  Familiar  Sub- 
ject*,          

•LETTERS  TO  THE  JONESES, 


HISS  G1LHKUT 
BAY  PATH, 
THE  MARBLE 
other  Poem*, 

(•AllNKl'Kl)  Sll 

il   Work 

••Knthrinn,"  •• 

rixl  lino  c«1itio 

tr.it.  il, 


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